


Streetlights

by claryclark



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claryclark/pseuds/claryclark
Summary: NSFW!!!





	1. New Beginnings

Chapter One: New Beginnings 

London, Claire’s Flat 

Sunday, March 9th, 2019 

I drop the last box unceremoniously on the floor, taking a little satisfaction in the decisive finality of it, breathing heavy and sweating a little with exertion. Even in the chilly air of a London morning, moving into a third floor flat without a lift was no small task. I take a long pull from my water bottle as I sink down to the floor, my back against the closed door, surveying my new home. I made the decision to move to London from Boston just over a month ago and now here I was, surrounded by boxes and chaos, feeling more than a little whiplashed.

So far, I had one piece of furniture; an ugly red couch that came with the flat. Geillis Duncan, my best friend since my first year at University (at St. Andrews, in Scotland) was sprawled out at length on the musty old thing, one arm flung over her eyes, chest heaving dramatically-

“I swear to Christ Almighty- if ye make me carry one more box up those godforsaken stairs I will burn yer bonny wee flat to the ground.”

“You know, for a physician, you have a surprising aversion to exercise.”

She lifts her arm just the slightest bit to eye me with distain-

“Beggin’ yer pardon, but it didna seem to me the ye were enjoying it too much yerself Dr. Beauchamp.”

I snort at that halfheartedly, abandoning our banter, and creakily rising to my feet to begin the daunting task of unpacking all of my worldly possessions into my shoebox studio flat. The move to London had been very sudden and when all was said and done I was lucky to have found this place. It was in a good neighborhood, had a brand-new dishwasher and refrigerator, and was an easy 15 minute commute to the Hospital where I would start work next week. The downsides being that it was wildly overpriced for a studio, there were no laundry facilities for at least 5 blocks and worst of all, I was trapped in a year-long lease. And, obviously, the lack of space was going to be very problematic.

For the first time I think back on the roomy Boston apartment I’d shared with Frank with something other than hollow, bone deep weariness. And while I did mourn the spacious master closet, the thought of ever returning to that place- to that time in my life- made me nauseous.

I am stacking coffee mugs neatly in the cupboard when Geillis appears at my side, apparently sensing my changing mood-

“Ye need a break, my lass- we both do.”

She tugs me away by the arm, leading me towards the door, ignoring my resistance.

“C’mon Geillis..” I say, glancing anxiously at the suitcases and moving boxes littering my flat.

“Just a quick walk- we could use a little fresh air.”

I sigh in exasperation- only a token protest as at the moment I could use a little fresh air.

“Besides,” She says opening the door, ushering me out, “Rupert’s rugby match isna far away. I dinna ken about you, but I personally canna think o’ a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than watching a pack o’ sweaty men beat the senses out o’ one another for no good reason.”

I laugh, thankful as always for Geillis’ singular ability to not take life so seriously from time to time. 

“How’s that going by the way? You and Rupert?” I ask, following her down the three flights of stairs to the street.

Rupert was essentially Geillis’ boyfriend but they hadn’t put any labels on their relationship yet. Rupert had been a year behind us at St. Andrews and he and Geilis developed a shy, tentative friendship right before our graduation. Geillis, like me, was then thrown into the shadowy abyss that is the first year of med school where dating was essentially out of the question. They lost touch a short while later. 

But- as fate would have it, she ran into Rupert just under 2 months ago at the wedding of a mutual friend. They spent the whole night drinking, dancing, flirting and relishing in the reconnection. I could still hear the magic of it in her voice when she called me the next morning to tell me about their multi-part late night tryst- starting in the back seat of his car, progressing to the shower in his hotel room, and ending in a sweaty heap on the floor. They’d seen each other- at minimum- 4 times a week, every week since.

I know Geillis very well and it’s painfully obvious to me that she is- for lack of a better word- smitten. But of course, she’s Geillis, so any revelations of her feelings towards Rupert would be well disguised with a shockingly detailed appraisal of their sex life. She carries on in just this fashion as we walk to the Underground detailing her feelings in such a way that I roughly interpret to mean “things are going really well, we’re having a lot of fun and he makes me really happy.”

The train we need to take pulls up. As we get on, I ask her- “So can you see this going somewhere?”

“Well Claire I sat on the man’s face for- and I’m no’ kiddin’- a full 45 minutes last night and he didna complain a bit. Actually looked a wee bit sad when I had to climb off. I’d say that alone makes the case for keepin’ him around, at least for a little while longer.”

High praise, mate, I think in Rupert’s direction.

I pretend not to notice how the man standing behind her chokes on his coffee.

We ride in silence for a few minutes before Geillis asks, with uncharacteristic wariness-

“So, have you heard from him?”

Frank, she means. I take a big breath before blowing it out in exasperation.

“He’s sent me a few e-mails, asking me to let him know I’ve made it here and that I’m settled. I haven’t responded.”

“Good. Don’t.”

I wouldn’t. The end with Frank hadn’t been a surprise but it had been sudden. We’d both known the end was coming for some time, but we were stuck dancing around it, suspended in midair- frozen in time by obligation and fear of the unknown. The last year of our relationship had been the worst of my life. During those final twelve months, we became people I did not recognize. Frank, became cold, distant, and at times, almost cruel. I became a hollow, self-conscious, anxiety ridden shell of myself. So, when I came home early one afternoon to find him with another woman in our bed, it was almost a relief. Almost. It had been over for me then, no ifs ands or buts. He struggled to hang on for a while, saying he was willing to do “whatever it takes to fix this” as though there was anything that could have been done. He offered to go to counseling; at one point he’d even offered to propose. I had stared at him for a long moment. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I’d do it Claire. We have a good thing going here, we have a home together. We’re comfortable. If marriage is what you need to stay and make this work then… I’m willing to do that.”

I had laughed at him then and cried a little too for the twenty-five year old Claire who had lain awake at night dreaming of becoming Mrs. Frank Randall.

I checked into a hotel that day, bringing with me as much as I could and told him that I would be in touch about my remaining things. The next few weeks had been a blur of phone calls, web cam interviews, packing and rushed goodbyes. Now here I was- in a new life, in a new city. Thirty-three, single, and the furthest thing from ready to mingle. 

We are silent, both of us lost in thought when we arrive at our destination. But by the time we emerge from the Parsons Green Underground Station onto the busy street, we are chatting companionably, all thoughts of Frank and the sorrows of the past swept firmly to the side. For now. 

Rupert’s team is playing at the Hurlingham Park Rugby pitches. Over the course of the ten minute walk from the station, Geillis fillsme in on the romantic prospects of the various strapping young men who played on Rupert’s team. Dearly as I loved Geillis, we could not be more different in terms of romantic inclinations. In Geillis’ mind, the quickest way for me to get over the break-up of an eight-year relationship could be fully summarized in just two steps. Step one: find the nearest man with a set of rock hard abs and a pulse. Step two: hop on. To me, though, the idea of engaging in even the most casual of romantic trysts made me want to be physically ill. 

It is drizzling a little by the time we make it to the park. Enough to notice, but not nearly enough to send us running for shelter. We take our seats at the top of the bleachers by the pitches where Rupert’s match is clearly well under way. I don’t know the first thing about Rugby, other than it is likely to result in a myriad of injuries due to blunt-force trauma. Despite my ignorance, I certainly don’t mind taking in a match from time to time. There is something so inherently masculine about the game that makes my insides, mostly battered and numb by the emotional trauma of the past few months, tingle ever so slightly with sensation. 

They are a lovely group of young men, all at the peak of physical fitness, looking rugged and deliciously filthy in their mud stained Rugby shirts. Geillis scans the pitch for a few minutes before lighting up and pointing into the mass of sweat-drenched players. 

“There’s Rupert- just there! See him?” 

I do. He is hard to miss. Rupert is huge, roughly 6’1 with a broad torso, burly and thickened by muscle. The edges of one of his tattoos (he had three in total, according to Geillis) is peaking out from underneath the sleeve of his shirt. He has a full beard and wears his long, sandy brown hair back in a bun- a style that makes me want to roll my eyes but seemed to make Geillis go weak at the knees. 

There is a break in the action on the pitch as a time-out is announced. The men disperse to take sips of water and stretch sore muscles. I am about to ask Geillis how long Rugby matches usually last when Geillis catches Rupert’s eye. She stands up and waves, cupping hands over her mouth as she yells- 

“Kick some arse baby!” 

Rupert waves back at Geillis, absolutely beaming. 

That’s when I notice that the man standing next to Rupert is staring directly at me. When I shift my gaze to look directly back at him, I freeze. I don’t know how long we stand there, staring at one another; it feels like forever and no time at all. My brain is screaming at me to just look away but for some reason I don’t. I can’t. 

Finally, the whistle is blown, breaking the spell. He smiles then, nodding his head at me just a tad in the subtlest of courtly gestures before running back to the center of the field. Despite my best efforts, my eyes stay on him for the rest of the match. 

He is tall, taller than Rupert by at least a few inches with a curly mop of unruly red hair. He’s big, covered in a ridiculous amount of muscle, like Rupert. But where Rupert’s body is stocky and blunt, his is lean, agile and precise, navigating the chaos of the pitch with a goddamned Adonis-like grace. I can’t remember the last time I looked at a man this way, beyond the briefest of cursory passing glances. And now here I am, unable to rip my eyes away from the muscles in his back and arms working impressively under his shirt. 

From what I can see of his face at this distance, I can tell he has beautiful, defined features; high cheek bones, chiseled jaw and a pair of gleaming blue eyes. I realize that I’d forgotten to ask Geillis how long Rugby matches usually last. I decide I don’t really want to know anymore; I just hope this one wasn’t ending any time soon. 

I am pulled from my reverie by a sudden commotion on the field. Whistles are blowing frantically and there are shouts of “OI BACK UP MATE!” 

Geillis and I clatter our way down the bleachers and onto the pitch without a moment’s hesitation- our finely tuned medical instincts kicking in before our brains could catch up. Rupert, having seen us coming, was already clearing a path. 

“Back up lads! We’ve got some doctors here! Coming through!” 

The uninjured men obligingly step aside, allowing us to quickly make our way to the center of the sweaty mass. Two men are sitting on the grass, clutching injured limbs. Without thinking I dropped to my knees at the side of the man nearest to me with a clearly dislocated right shoulder. 

“How does it look?” 

I jump a little at the timbre of the low Scottish voice. Looking up I realize that my new patient is in fact the red-headed Adonis I’d locked eyes with earlier. Faltering for only the briefest of seconds, I quickly revert back to Doctor mode. 

“It isn’t bad, but I’m afraid it is out of joint. We’ll have to run you down to the A&E to have it reduced back into socket Mr…?” 

He offers me his left hand, and I take it, heart skipping only a little when he briefly squeezes my fingers. 

“James Fraser. But ye can call me Jamie. And that wilna be necessary Dr…? 

He releases my hand, waiting for my response. 

“Claire, Claire Beauchamp. And whatever do you mean, not necessary? You require medical attention, surely you can see that.” 

“Can ye no’ just pop it back in right here?” 

“Well technically yes I could but I am quite confident you would prefer the A&E.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Because it will hurt. A lot.” 

“And it will hurt less if I let ye do it in the A&E?” 

“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t do it at the A&A. One of the on duty doctors- 

“Och well in that case I’d much sooner remain here, in yer capable care Dr. Beauchamp.” 

My god, he’s flirting. The man has a dislocated shoulder, and is thus undoubtedly in an enormous amount of pain and he is flirting. With me. On one hand, I am absolutely giddy at the notion- but on the other hand I am very annoyed with him for not appreciating the seriousness of his injury. 

“Mr. Fraser-”

“Jamie. Please.” 

“Jamie. At the A&E they can give you pain medication before preforming the reduction. I assure you, that is by far the most preferable option here.” 

“Dr. Beauchamp, I-”

“Claire.” I say, smiling just a little. 

His answering smile is dazzling. 

“Claire.” 

I barely hear what he says next, as the less disciplined, estrogen fueled portion of my brain is trying to come up with various excuses to get him to my name again, as many time as possible, before we parted ways. 

“I dinna like pain medication. I hate tae feel all woozy like that- it almost always makes me sick.” 

“I understand that but I-”

Geillis interrupts before I can finish my thought. 

“Claire!”

I turn to her call. She is about ten feet away, tending to the other injured player. 

“I’m almost positive he’s torn his ACL. We’re calling an ambulance now- should we call two?” 

Jamie answers before I can. 

“That willna be necessary- but I thank ye!”

I turn back to look at him, to find him eyeing me expectantly.

“Well?” 

I roll my eyes, sighing in exasperation. 

“Bloody man.” 

His eyes are absolutely sparkling at my remark, and I am torn between the urge to say something, anything, that will keep him looking at me like that, and the urge to kick him, hard, right in the balls. 

“Aye that I am. I do apologize for the inconvenience.” 

In that moment I decide that if he was going to make me do this, then I was going to take no small amount of satisfaction in doing it. I would have to remind myself not to gloat openly. 

“Alright then, Mr. Fraser.” I pull my hair out of its loose, messy bun before tying it back again in a much tidier pony tail, high on top of my head. 

“I will need something to use as a sling.” Someone retrieves the impressive first aid kit that is kept at the pitch at all times. Inside I find bandages, medical tape, and small packets of ibuprofen. There are also several tools that could be used for slightly more serious injuries, such as splints, braces and a reasonably sturdy sling. I set aside the sling, medical tape and bandages before pressing four tablets of ibuprofen into his right hand. 

“Take these.” 

He complies, never taking his eyes off of me. 

“Right then. Jamie, I’ll need you to sit up straight and stretch your legs out at length in front of you. Also, I’ll need a few extra hands. You- would you mind holding his right side so he can’t move?’ 

A few minutes later, we are in position; one player bracing Jamie on his right side, one at his back, and another beside me, ready to provide the necessary strength as I guided the shoulder back into its socket. When I looked up, I was only inches away from his face and I could feel his breath no my neck. I swallow, hard, forcing myself to focus. 

“Are you ready Jamie?” 

Now that we had reached the moment of truth Jamie’s confident ease had been replaced with a substantially paled complexion and widened eyes. Nevertheless, he tightens his jaw, giving me his most devastating, Adonis-like smile and nods. 

“Aye.” 

A few minutes, and god knows how many shouted expletives later, the job is done. Panting with exertion, I wipe my brow and look up at him. 

“How does it feel?” 

“It doesna hurt at all now!” 

He looks at me in amazement, and I feel more than little proud. Focus, I tell myself sternly. I secure the shoulder in place with the bandages and tape before helping him into the splint. When I am finished, I notice he is eyeing me curiously.

“I’ve no’ seen ye at a match here before. Ye work with Geillis then? University Hospital, right?” 

“Yes. I just transferred there, from Boston. And it will hurt Jamie. You will need to be very careful over the next few days. Ice it regularly and take a dose of ibuprofen every six hours or so to keep the swelling down. You need to keep it in the sling…” 

He listens intently as I relay the instructions, and I barely fight back the overwhelming and equally absurd impulse to kiss the corner of his mouth, compressed in concentration. 

“Is there anything else?” 

Pulled abruptly from my thoughts, I falter for a few seconds before I find words.

“Yes. I would highly recommend having it examined by a doctor, to make sure it heals properly. In say, four or five days, or so.” 

“Of course. Does Friday work for you?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“You don’t mind do ye?” 

“Well no-I-well…” 

For god’s sake pull it together Beauchamp! 

“I’ll come to ye of course, I’ll no’ ask ye to make a house call on my account.” 

More glittering eyes. Jesus fuck- who IS this guy??? 

“Will ye be workin’ on Friday then?” 

“Well… yes…” 

“I’ve the day off on Friday so I dinna mind waiting a while until ye find the time.” 

I am utterly at a loss for words at this point. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that, with the current disastrous state of my emotional affairs, it is a very bad idea for me to see him again- especially in a professional context. My brain is in full revolt at this point, screaming at me to shut this down, Beauchamp! He has launched into full assault mode now- glittering blue eyes, full lips turned up in a flirty smile, moppy red curls dripping a little with rain and sweat. I am hopelessly outmatched.

In the end, I can manage only a faint- 

“Well that works out nicely then.” 

“Of course, I’ll need a way to contact ye. If it should start to bother me o’er much before then.” 

Nope. No way, absolutely not. This is the line- do not cross. Not gonna happen. 

I stare dumbly at him for a moment or two before speaking. 

“Do you have a pen?” Goddamnit.

I end up programming my number into his phone. I stand up then, wiping grass from my knees, before reaching down to help him get on his feet. For the first time I take in the actual size of him, up close. I try not to notice how easy it would be for me stand with my head tucked snugly under his chin. 

Geillis, having seen the player with the potentially torn ACL safely into an ambulance with his wife, who’d been watching the match, appears at my side.

She smirks from me to Jamie before reaching up to tug at his ear familiarly- 

“I see ye’ve gotten our wee fox cub all sorted away then.” 

Jamie shakes her off good-naturedly enough, though there is a stiffness in him now that wasn’t there before- 

“Knock it off Geillis.” 

“You two know each other?” I ask, totally lost. 

“Oh, aye.” Geillis nods. “We grew up together, ye ken, back in Inverness.” 

“Oh, how lovely.” I say, feeling suddenly awkward. 

Before the conversation can progress any further, the drizzle that had been consistent since we arrived at the Pitch, suddenly explodes into a full blown downpour. Chaos erupts as people scatter about, seeking shelter. 

Geillis turns to me, shouting to be heard over the rain- 

“Do ye want to be heading back?”

I nod before turning back to Jamie- 

“It was nice to meet you Jamie. You’ll take good care of that shoulder, won’t you?”

“Ye have my word.” 

He smiles at me then, and suddenly I am frozen again, brain short-circuiting, oblivious to everything including Geillis’ persistent tugging on my arm. 

Jamie dips his head in the slightest of bows, not taking his eyes off mine- 

“Until Friday, Dr. Beauchamp.” 

At that I allow Geillis to drag me away. We break out in a light jog in the direction of the tube station, and I swear I can feel his eyes on my back. Right before we round the corner at the end of the block, I crane my head around to look back at Jamie.

He is standing right where we left him, seemingly oblivious to the pouring rain, staring after me with the sweetest smile spreading across his face. 

By the time we get back to my flat we are both soaked to the bone and shivering convulsively. And yet, somehow, for the first time in months, I am warm all the way through.


	2. Dr. Beuachamp & Mr. Fraser

University Hospital   
London, England   
Friday, March 9th, 2019

I am sitting at the desk in the fifth-floor doctor’s lounge, trying to remember how to breathe.

“I’m sorry, what?” I all but hiss into the phone at my ear, unable to make sense of what I’d just heard.

“I said there is a patient here at the administration desk, asking for you. He says he’s here to see you for a follow up, but he doesn’t have an appointment.”

I swallow, finding my mouth suddenly dry.

“I see-ah- what does he look like? The patient?

“Um, I dunno, tall, red hair. Says his name is James Fraser.”

“Right. Of course.” I say, noticeably faint.

“You know him then? He says he’s willing to wait until you’re available.”

“That’s quite alright. I have a bit of time now. Tell him to sit tight, I’ll be right there.”

I slowly put the phone down, my face frozen in a confused, sort of dumbstruck gape. I had not heard from Jamie since that day at the rugby pitch. I had spent the last week convincing myself that what I had mistaken for a spark of connection between us had been nothing more than a side effect of his natural charm. I certainly hadn’t expected him to actually show up here, at my hospital. I’d figured he’d either pop by his primary physician’s office for a quick check up- or, the much likelier scenario- never follow up with the shoulder at all.

Feeling oddly frantic, I take stock of my appearance in the lounge mirror. My outfit is decent enough- plain black trousers and my favorite emerald green sweater. I put on my lab coat, straightening the collar and slipping a few pens into the breast pocket. My hair is tied back in its usual tight bun. On impulse, I let it down, shaking it out around my shoulders. I regret it almost instantly, my riotous curls sticking out wildly in all directions. I attempt in vain to smooth it down, before I realize I am being ridiculous.

You are not in a pub, Claire Beauchamp. You are at work. This is a hospital. You are a Doctor. A medical professional. Forget about your hair. It’s fine.

I march decidedly out of the lounge without a second glance at the mirror. By the time I am in the elevator, I am struggling with my hair again.

I see him almost immediately after stepping off of the elevator. He is sitting in the waiting area, leaning forward with the elbow on his good side resting on his knee, reading a magazine. He looks up as I approach the waiting area and his smile is just as dazzling as I remembered. He is wearing jeans, and a long sleeved gray henley, the two buttons at the neck unbuttoned, allowing a few whips of red-gold chest hair to peak through.

“Mr. Fraser.” I say sticking out my hand as he stands to greet me. “Good to see you again.”

He takes my offered hand, smirking at my insistent formality.

“You as well, Dr. Beauchamp.”

The handshake lasts a touch longer than it probably should have but I pretend not to notice. I clear my throat as I turn to the administration desk.

The administrator looks up and smiles pleasantly. “Good Morning, Dr. Beauchamp.”

“Good Morning Henry. Is there an exam room available?”

“Yes- Room 7. Fraser right?”

When I nod, he hands me the clipboard containing the forms that Jamie had filled out. I turn back to Jamie.

“Follow me.”

I quickly peruse the forms as we navigate the maze of white hallways. It feels a bizarre invasion of his privacy for me to be reading Jamie’s medical history. Especially since I am taking a touch more interest in a few aspects of his life than could be considered strictly medically necessary. 29 years old, never married, no children, non-smoker…

“Here we are.” I say unnecessarily as we reach Exam Room 7. I open the door and usher him in.

He hops easily up onto the exam table, letting his feet dangle as he waits for me to finish reading. After a few minutes I ask, without looking up-

“How’s the shoulder? Any pain?”

“Och, aye. Not so much now, but that next morning when I woke I was sure someone had come in the night and ripped the thing out o’ joint again.”

Still looking at the clipboard, I allow the corner of my mouth to turn up in the faintest of self-satisfied smirks.

“Told you.”

“Ye did.” He says and I can almost hear the coy smile in his voice.

Finally, I put down the clipboard to begin the examination. Looking directly at him now, I am confronted with one of the more problematic requirements of a shoulder exam. Feeling suddenly awkward I tuck my hair behind my ears, eyes on the floor.

“I’ll need to remove the sling. And um… you’ll need to remove your shirt.”

I pump hand sanitizer into my palm, avoiding his eyes. If he senses my awkwardness, he doesn’t show it.

“Of course.”

He reaches back around with his good arm, pawing awkwardly at the clasp of the sling. After a minute or so of struggling, he looks to me apologetically.

“Would ye mind?”

I stare at him dumbly for a moment, before I realize what he’s asking.

“Oh! No not at all.”

Leaning in I reach around his neck with both hands to unclasp the sling. I was not prepared to be this close to him, and the swell of sensations hits me all at once, nearly sending me over the edge. The smell of him- musky and woodsy and clean. The feel his breath on the curve of my ear. The tender flesh at the curve of his neck that made me want mark it with my teeth. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding out of my chest as I pull back.

If he does notice, he doesn’t show it. He manages to pull his t-shirt off with one hand, gingerly pulling it down over his injured shoulder.

I have always considered myself to be a person of considerable dignity and self-control. Working in a male dominated field- I had long since trained myself to be in control of my emotions and to keep any errant female hormones firmly in check.

Now, here I am, standing in front of a shirtless Jamie Fraser and I can’t remember my own name.

From a strictly medical perspective, he is a marvel, muscles hard and well-shaped by regular exercise. From a female perspective, he is power and safety- a body that could master mine until I cry out, deep in the night, and a body that could cover mine, shielding me until I sleep in the security of his arms.

Shaking my head to dispel the furious blush growing in my cheeks, I get down to business. I probe to curve of his shoulder gently with practiced fingers- firmly ignoring the feeling of his taut, tightly knit muscles- asking him the usual series of questions. Does it hurt here? How about here?

A few minutes later I am jotting down a few cursory notes when he takes control of the conversation.

“So, what brings ye to London, Sassenach?”

Biting my lip in a feeble attempt not to smile, I pretend to be caught up in my notes still, not looking up from the clip board.

“Sassenach, huh?”

“Aye- that just means-”

Done with my notes, I set the clipboard down on the exam room counter before leaning back against it with crossed arms.

“I lived in Scotland for four years Mr. Fraser, I know what it means. I just find it interesting- considering we’re in London and if either of us is an outlander here, it certainly isn’t me.”

There they are again. Those goddamned glittering eyes.

“Och well, outlander isna the literal meaning. Literally, it means Englishman. Are ye telling me that yer time in Boston has estranged ye completely to the land of yer forefathers?”

His lips are turned up in a playful smirk that is so simultaneously frustrating and arousing that I feel more than slightly lightheaded.

“My apologies, Mr. Fraser.”

I hope that my smile isn’t as flirtatious as it feels. Unfortunately, his answering smile tells me it is just that and then some.

I take advantage of the brief pause in conversation to steer us back towards official business.

“The shoulder seems to be healing nicely, though, it’s still a touch more swollen than it should be. Have you been taking a regular course of anti-inflammatory medication?”

“You never answered my question Dr. Beauchamp.”

“What question?”

“What brings ye to London?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with your shoulder.”

“Can ye no’ find it in yer heart to humor an injured man?”

I roll my eyes, giving in. If only he knew just how complicated that particular question was

“Oh you know, I’d just been in Boston for so long. I did four years of medical school there and then my residency… I just needed a change. A new city, where I don’t know anyone, and no one knows me….”

My voice trails off without me realizing it and it suddenly occurs to me that if I don’t get a handle on myself soon, I am going to tell this man the deepest secrets of my soul right here in Exam Room 7. What is the matter with me? 

I clear my throat, doing my absolute best to look normal.

“A fresh start, you know?”

When I finally meet his eyes again, he is looking at me like he can see all of me, every fiber of my being, down to the marrow of my bones. He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I want desperately to look away. My brain is in full scale revolt now, sirens blaring, pleading with me to follow my instincts and protect myself- to hide. But I can’t seem to hide from him.

“Aye, I ken what ye mean.” He says, finally breaking the silence.

I do look away from him then, forcing myself to prattle off a disgruntled bundle of instructions concerning the continued healing of his shoulder- rest, stretching, anti-inflammatory medication. He listens carefully, asking a few questions here and there. Finally, I run out of things to say and we fall into silence once more. With the silence I am forced to confront things I’d much rather ignore- the sizzle of electricity of the room, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, and the bloody magnetic heat of him, drawing me to him, slowly melting my insides into wax.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence and making me jump a little.

“I hope ye willna think it overly forward of me Claire… but well I want ye to know that if ye ever need anything, or want someone to hang out with or talk to…. well ye can always call me. I would like to be a friend to ye. If ye’d let me.”

I’m so stunned by this, all I can say is literally the first thing that comes to my mind,

“Well I don’t have your number.”

He smirks at me, pulling out his phone. Seconds later there is a slight whooshing sound from his phone, followed by a quiet ping! from my own. He puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Now ye do.”

It occurs to me that he might be taking this down a path that I am nowhere near ready to follow. And yet… somehow I know I’d follow him anywhere.

He speaks again, before I can respond.

“Look- I don’t want ye to think I’m trying to- I don’t want you get the wrong idea. It’s just what ye said … about moving to a new city where ye don’t know anyone, trying to make a new start… well that was me not so long ago. I know… I know what it is to feel alone. And all I’m saying now, is that ye don’t have to.”

Normally, I would have immediately seen such an offer as nothing more than an attempt to take advantage of my unfamiliarity with my surroundings, and get me into bed a couple of times. And yet, somehow with him, it never even crosses my mind. The way he is looking at me- earnest, protective and gentle- causes something in me to shift. I feel it settle over me, oozing through my veins like warm honey. Trust.

Absurdly, I feel tears stinging at the back of the eyes, threatening to surface.

“Thank you.” I croak out so quietly I’m not sure he’ll hear me.

He does though.

“Any time.”

I watch him from the corner of my eye as he puts his shirt back on. When it is time to help him ease back into the sling, I square my shoulders, ignoring the feel of the soft hairs at the nape of his neck as I refasten the clasp. As I move to pull back, he turns his face toward me, just barely a fraction of an inch. It’s enough, though, and suddenly we are so close I can feel his breath, sweet and warm on my lips. He swallows, audibly and for a moment I think maybe he is going to kiss me. It’s a terrifying moment- terrifying only because of how much I want him too.

A ringing alert from the pager on my waistband shatters the silence, causing us both to jump as we break apart.

“Duty calls.” I say lamely, voice shaking only a little.

“Aye, of course.” He opens the door for me and we walk back to the waiting room in silence.

Once there, I hand the clipboard with his forms back to the administrator, before walking with him to the main entrance.

I clear my throat, and stick out my hand.

“Well Mr. Fraser, it was good to see you again.”

He takes my hand, and my breath catches when he lightly squeezes my fingers.

“You as well Dr. Beauchamp.”

He drops my hand and turns to go. Suddenly, without any warning or forethought, I hear my voice calling after him.

“Jamie.” I say, using his Christian name for the first time since I first found him in the waiting room.

He stops, turning around to face me. I don’t know what I’d been planning to say, but whatever it was, I almost immediately lose my nerve.

“Um… just- you need to wait a while before you start using that shoulder normally again.” I stammer, cheeks burning furiously. “No heavy lifting and definitely no rugby for at least a few weeks.”

A beat of silence, and then I speak again without thinking. 

“It just… needs a little time.” 

He smiles then. A slow, sweet, utterly devastating smile that makes me want to follow him out of the hospital and never look back.

“I’m a patient man, Sassenach. I can wait.”

A few hours later, at the end of my shift, I am back in the doctor’s lounge, Jamie’s parting words to me playing over and over and over again, on a loop in my head. As I gather my things and prepare to head home, I decide that I don’t think he was talking about his shoulder. 

But then again, neither was I.


	3. Whispers

Chapter Three: Whispers

My chest is heaving as I tangle my trembling fingers into the mass of curly red hair between my legs.

“Please.”

Jamie’s answering chuckle is low and seductive, his breath warm on my hyper-sensitive skin. He rubs the stubble on his cheek against my inner thigh.

“Please what?”

“Jamie.” My voice is breathy, pleading, almost desperate, but I don’t care.

He moves up the length of my body, until he is looming over me, putting his lips to my ear.

“What do ye want Claire?”

He snakes a hand down between my thighs, rubbing lightly at the center of sensation, causing me to arch up into him.

“You.”

 

Thursday, April 18th, 2019

When I open my eyes, my chest is still heaving, but I am alone. I simply lie there for a moment, a little stunned at the intensity of the sensations, burning across my skin like a wildfire.

For a while, I think the ringing in my ears is an aftershock of the dream. And then I realize it’s my alarm clock.

“Shit!” I yell out at no one in particular as I all but fall out of bed, throwing myself at the howling clock to silence it.

I glance towards my bedroom window, looking out at the still black sky. It’s five-thirty in the morning. My shift at the hospital begins at seven. I stumble into the bathroom, rubbing my eyes, feeling blindly for the light switch. I stand there for a moment, blinking at myself in the mirror, giving my brain a moment to wake up. It comes back to me slowly, the way dreams normally do. Jesus it felt so bloody real…

As I get in the shower I am in full rationalization mode. It had been a long time. A long, long time. During the last year of our relationship, Frank and I had sex exactly twice. The first had been on our eight year anniversary- we came together awkwardly, stiffly, out of some bizarre obligation to commemorate the occasion. The second time had been after a night out drinking with friends, both of us coming home (quite a few more than) three sheets to the wind. Both times Frank put in a gentlemanly effort to give me release, but ultimately gave up, before finding his own. Both times I laid awake next to him after, listening to him snore, feeling hollow and numb.

So, yes, I am most assuredly at a point in my period of sexual depravation where having dreams of this sort is more than understandable. Besides, I am not so naïve as to deny the natural physical attraction of Jamie Fraser. Being but a mere mortal myself, I am helpless not to notice the more pleasing aesthetic details of his physique.

And yet, I had not dreamed of the tight knit muscles of his arms, or of the flat, rigid slope of his stomach. I had dreamed of his hands, gentle and reverential on my skin, and of his voice in the dark, commanding and husky. I stand in the shower for a long time, waiting for the hot water to wash away the imagined memory of his flesh on mine. It never does.

The rest of the city is just barely coming alive as I set off for the hospital. Though I relish any opportunity to stay in bed, late into the day, there is something lovely about walking the empty streets of a sleepy city as the sun begins to peak over the skyline. Something dreamy, other-worldly and ethereal, bringing peace and stillness. I find no stillness today, though. In fact, I have found barely any stillness since the day I met Jamie.

Over the past month, Jamie and I had settled into an easy friendship. Every day since our encounter at the hospital, I told myself that I didn’t feel anything for him. And yet, every time Geillis invited me to tag along on an outing with her and Rupert, I eagerly accepted- just on the off chance that Jamie would be there too. Before long, I found myself looking for excuses to text him, going as far as to feign a newfound interest in rugby just so I could ask him questions. We stayed up late into the night, exchanging flirty banter as the conversation evolved.

After we finally said goodnight, I laid awake in bed, blood still sizzling in my veins with excitement. That was the first time I forced myself to confront the possibility that I was feeling something for Jamie Fraser. Now, as I walk to work, I am certain that it is much more than a possibility. I’m just not sure if it’s one I’m ready to act on.

I am still thinking about my dream as I sit down to lunch with Geilis in the hospital cafeteria. I am twirling a bit of pasta salad on my fork, wondering if his curls would feel as soft in my fingers as they had in my dream, when I realize that Geilis is talking to me.

“Claire?”

I snap back to the present, to see Geillis’ emerald green eyes narrowed at me in speculation.

“Hmm?” I say, stuffing a forkful in my mouth.

“What is going on with ye today?”

“What do you mean?”

“I dinna ken, ye just seem… distracted.”

Realistically, I know I’m not fooling her. I can barely hide my thoughts from strangers on the street, much less my best friend. But I’m not willing to go down without a fight.

“Sorry.” I mumble, shrugging absently. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Geillis just rolls her eyes at this, apparently willing to give up for now. My shoulders sag a bit in relief.

“Och well ye best make up for it tonight. Yer not bailin’ on me tomorrow, and I dinna care how sleepy and distracted ye are.” 

Rupert’s birthday party is tomorrow night, and his parents are going to be in attendance. This will be Geilis’s first time meeting any of his family (other than Jamie who I’d recently discovered was Rupert’s cousin). To say she is a nervous wreck, would be a massive understatement.

“Relax, Geillis. I’ll be there.”

She waits until I am in the middle of gulping down a diet soda, before speaking again.

“Jamie will be there too.”

I choke, spewing diet soda everywhere. Geilis is all but snickering when she hands me a napkin. I wipe my mouth with as much dignity as I can muster, before answering her.

“Will he?”

She knows she has me cornered now, and leans back in her chair, hands clasped behind her head.

“Aye. But I’m sure ye kent that already.”

“Why would I?”

“C’mon Claire,” she snorts. “I’m no’ blind. I’ve seen the two of ye together. I ken perfectly well that something’s going on there.”

“Geilis, please, we’re just friends. Barely even that- I mean, we’ve only known each other for…”

I let my voice trail off, knowing there is no use.

“Ye really are such a terrible liar Claire.”

I sigh heavily, closing the Styrofoam take-away box containing the remainder of my lunch, and pushing it to the center of the table. 

“Look, Geilis, I won’t deny that there is…. ”

“Aye?” She says, nodding encouragingly. 

“A certain…” I muse, looking for the write words, “… a certain attraction. At least on my part. But it’s too soon.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is.” I say, almost indignant. “I was with Frank for eight years. I can’t just get into… you know… something with another guy after only a few months.”

“I-

“Besides,” I say, cutting her off before she can interject. “I have no reason to believe that Jamie’s even interested in me in that way. And I have every reason to believe he wouldn’t be, if he found out about the emotional baggage I’m dragging around.”

“Claire, ye know I love ye like a sister and lord knows yer too bloody brilliant for yer own good- but sometimes ye drive me raving mad w’ yer daftness.”

“What-”

“Three things” She says, holding up three fingers, cutting me off, “First of all- I’ll no’ say that Frank wasna a big part of yer life or that he didna hurt ye something fierce there in the end. But I will say that whatever it was between ye, it stopped being love a good while before then. Ye shouldna waste yer time grieving o’er something that should’ve been buried years ago.”

“Geilis-

“Second, I’ve kent Jamie Fraser most of my life. He’s always enjoyed the attention o’ lasses and lord kens he’s had more than his fair share. But the way he looks at ye Claire, the way he asks me about ye every time I see him… well, he’s more than interested. And I dinna think yer ‘emotional baggage’ will be scarin’ him off.”

“But-

“And third,” she says, looking me square in the eye, making me hear her, really hear her, like only a best friend can, “Jamie Fraser is no’ Frank Randall. And ye ken that as well as I do.”

Rupert’s birthday party is being held at the Capital Club, a swanky restaurant on the thirtieth floor of a London skyscraper. I am sitting in the back of an Uber, about fifteen minutes away, regretting my outfit choice for around the five hundredth time. On Geilis’ almost aggressive insistence that I “wear somethin’ sexy for cryin’ out loud”, I had finally settled on a curve-hugging, halter-top cocktail dress. I love the way the burgundy velvet material contrasts with my pale skin, but I’m not at all crazy about how much of that skin it leaves bare. I am still fidgeting with it, pulling it up here and down there, when I reach my destination. I get out of the Uber and find an out of the way place on the sidewalk to stop and text Geilis.

Where are you? I just got here.

“Sassenach!”

I look up from my phone to see Jamie striding towards me, dressed in a navy linen suit. This is the most formal setting I’ve ever seen him in and thus is my first time not seeing his mop of red curls in its normal unruly state. Tonight, it is neatly slicked down by hair gel, swooping off to one side, with a few rebel curls breaking loose to press against his forehead. He looks- for lack of a better word- positively dapper.

“Why, hello!” I say, hoping I don’t sound too breathless when he leans down to kiss me on the cheek.

“It’s good to see ye. Ye heading up?” He says, nodding his head towards the entrance.

“Umm…” I say, glancing back down at my phone. Geilis has just responded.

Upstairs! By the bar.

“Looks like it.” I say, smiling back up at him.

He dips his head forward, stretching his arm out in deference, “After you.”

We chat companionably as we make our way into the lobby to wait for an elevator. Jamie ends up telling me a story centering around one of the partners at the law firm where he is an associate. He is so enthralling, so animated in his recounting, that I nearly double over in laughter.

I am still laughing when the elevator doors open. Due to the large number of people cramming into the small space, Jamie and I end up pushed up against one another in a back corner, my back pressed close against his front. 

The sudden closeness of him is overwhelming and my senses are flooded with sensations. The smell of his cologne (warm, clean and somehow spicy), the heat of his body searing my skin through the layers of our clothing, the muscles of his chest and abdomen working subtly as he shifts slightly behind me. I am barely breathing, trying desperately to quiet the rapid, shallow sounds of my heaving lungs. When the elevator finally does begin its ascent, it does so with a jolt that nearly sends me tumbling to the floor. Jamie’s hands- big, warm and sure- automatically come to my hips steadying me. We both freeze.

One breath.

Two breaths.

My hands don’t feel like mine when they come up to rest over his, holding them in place against me. I hear the hitch of his breath and can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his chest where it’s pressed against my upper back. I turn my face just the slightest bit to the side until I can see the curve of his arm. Jamie dips his head down, but I don’t realize it until I feel his breath on my bare shoulder. He barely, almost imperceptibly, tightens his grip, pressing his fingers into the flesh at my hips, so lightly I’m not sure it’s even happening. My head is swimming and I feel dizzy. Suddenly we aren’t in an elevator, filled to the brim with people. Suddenly, we aren’t anywhere at all.

“Jamie…”

I’m not sure if I actually said his name out loud, and I don’t get a chance to find out. A loud dinging sound announces we have reached the 30th floor. I remove my hands from Jamie’s, his in turn falling from my waist.

When we are among the last people remaining on the elevator, he repeats his gesture from the sidewalk below, dipping his head, and stretching out his arm in the direction of the party.

“After you.”

Walking as close to each other’s sides as we can without actually touching, we head into the party to find Geilis at the bar, watching warily as she pounds back three shots of vodka in rapid succession.

“Geilis, sweetheart” I say, rubbing her shoulder, “I know you’re nervous but do you really think-”

Jamie’s voice cuts me off.

“Incoming.”

We all look up to see Rupert heading towards us, followed by two people, presumably his parents. I give Geillis’ hand a reassuring squeeze before we are all lost in a flurry of greetings, and introductions.

Rupert’s parents are immediately taken with Geillis, and pepper her with questions about her background and upbringing in the highlands. After 5 or 10 minutes of this, Geilis starts to look a tad desperate. Thankfully, Jamie notices and is good enough to step in.

“Geilis and I actually grew up together back in Inverness, Uncle Hector.” He says to Rupert’s father.

“Did ye now?” Uncle Hector says, looking delighted. “If only we’d managed to make it up to visit the Fraser side o’ the family- maybe these two could o’ met years ago!” 

Attention pulled from Geilis, they finally notice me standing in between her and Jamie.

“Who’s this then?” Rupert’s mother says, hand stretching out in my direction.

“Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, Mrs. Mackenzie!” Geilis says, “This is my best friend, Claire. She’s just moved to London from Boston.”

I take Mrs. Mackenzie’s hand and shake it warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well, my dear.”

Uncle Hector offers out his hand to me in turn, looking at me through a furrowed brow, “That’s no’ a Boston accent… is it?”

I laugh, shaking his hand, “No sir, it most certainly isn’t. I’m from Oxfordshire originally.”

“Claire and I met back at University, at St. Andrews.” Geilis interjects.

“Oh so all four of ye were at University together then?” Mrs. Mackenzie, looking around at the group of us.

“Oh aye, I suppose we were.” Jamie says, an unreadable expression on his face.

I stare at him, surprised. “Wait- you were at St. Andrews as well?” 

“Aye. I was a year behind Rupert.”

“So… hang on…” I say, thinking back, “That means your first year would’ve been my last year.”

“Hmm. I suppose it was.” He says blandly, before promptly changing the subject. 

After a while, Jamie and I begin to drift away from the bar, allowing Geilis a chance to get to know her potential future in laws. By unspoken consent, we stay close to each other the entire night, moving lazily about the crowd of people, heads together, absorbed in easy conversation. An hour or so later, we are settled close together on a leather couch in the corner of the room. Whether it is due to our encounter in the elevator earlier in the evening, the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through our veins, or simply to the fact that we’ve not, until now, spent this much time alone together- there is something different in the air between us. Something electrifying, magnetic, and irresistible.

So when he leans in close, with a hand resting lightly on my thigh and says he, “kens a braw wee pub just a few blocks from here”, I do not hesitate before taking his hand and following him out of the party.

If there were ever a pub made especially for someone like Jamie Fraser, this was the one. It was a beautiful, subtle, unassuming place with creaky bar stools and wing-backed red leather chairs. There were bookshelves lining the walls at various intervals, all heavy laded with delightfully musty old books, titles ranging from Stuart Little to Great Expectations. The barman greets us warmly as we take our seats at the bar.

Jamie turns in his stool to face me, “What’re ye drinkin’?”

I turn in my own to face him back, “Surprise me?”

“That’s a dangerous thing for an English woman to be saying to a Scot in a pub.” He says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

“You don’t scare me James Fraser.”

Our banter is fun and flirtatious, but at this I think I catch the faintest hint of something a little deeper flicker in his eyes.

“That I’d never want to, Sassenach.”

Another hour and god knows how many rounds later, we are still sitting there at the bar, stools turned to face each other. My feet are resting on the rungs of his stool, and his on the rungs of mine, our knees are pressed close together.

At some point, the conversation ends up back on the subject of our mutual alma mater.

“It’s hard to believe we spent a whole year in the same town, at the same school even, without meeting.” I say, taking a first sip of the latest round- a full bodied stout that warmed me through to the core.

“Well… that’s not entirely true.” He says, barely suppressing a shy smile.

“What do you mean? I’m sure I would’ve remembered if we’d met.”

“I.. uhm… well I wouldna say we met exactly. But I definitely kent who ye were.”

I stare at him blankly for a beat.

“I don’t understand.”

He sighs in surrender.

“You were a student assistant in a class I took- biology something or other- during my first year. The professor made ye stand up in front o’ the class and introduce yerself on the first day.”

“That’s right!” I say, realization dawning. “Professor Gershtein, Fundamentals of Biological Sciences. I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Aye, well..”

“Well… what?”

What had started out as a faint pinkness in the ears, now blooms into a fiery blush, enveloping his cheeks. He looks down at his foot as it taps absently on the rung of my stool.

“I did have the most godawful crush on ye.” He says finally.

“You what??” I exclaim, all but falling off my stool.

He nods, venturing now to peek shyly up at me through auburn lashes.

“Spent the whole semester tryin’ tae get up the nerve to talk to ye.”

“James Fraser,” I say, shaking my head definitively, “you are lying to me.”

“Swear on my life, Sassenach.” He is looking full on at me now, right hand raised as though about to swear an oath.

“Well.. why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Why didn’t you talk to me? I imagine I would’ve been flattered.” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

He considers this for a moment. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, before closing it again. 

After another beat, he shrugs. “I dinna ken Sassenach. Lots o’ reasons, I suppose. Most of all though, because ye scared the bloody piss out o’ me.”

This time I laugh out loud. “You can’t be serious.”

He nods, grinning. “Oh aye, I can.”

“How could you possibly have been afraid of me?”

“How could I not’ve! You were a beautiful, brilliant 4th year and I was an awkward 1st year with skinny arms.”

I take a long pull of my drink, trying and failing to imagine James Fraser as an awkward anything with skinny arms. When I look back at him, his gaze is suddenly serious.

“When I saw ye sitting on those bleachers that day…. I thought surely I was dreaming.”

His eyes are full of such heartbreaking tenderness, I feel like I might come apart at the seams. 

I clear my throat, hoping to recapture the flirty, lighthearted candor we’d enjoyed only moments before.

“Soo… have you had many crushes? Since back then, I mean.”

He takes the bait, his gaze now turning to one that makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the room.

“Hmmm…” He says, considering. “ Just one comes to mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Aye. She was at the party tonight, as a matter of fact.”

“Was she now?” I say, more than a little breathless.

“Aye. Ye should’ve seen her. She was wearing this gorgeous red dress that really showed off her….” 

He runs his eyes suggestively down my body before bringing them back up to meet my eyes, lingering and heady in a way that makes me think he’s about to say something truly improper. 

“Shoulders.”

I snort at that, almost spewing my drink.

“Her shoulders, huh?” I say, giggling.

“Mmmhmm…”, he hums, eyes glittering.

He downs the last of his drink in one final swig before leaning in close. He runs his lips lightly along the curve of my bare shoulder, up the slope of my neck, finally ending up pressed against my ear.

“Has no one ever told ye- ye’ve the bonniest wee shoulders.”

Something in me snaps at his words, and the cautious, logical version of me is suddenly no where to be found. My eyes zero in on the fullness of his lower lip, and my hand comes to rest lightly on his knee. As I lean in close, I realize that his chest his rising and falling rapidly, keeping time with my own.

Without my consent, my other hand reaches up to take him by the chin, thumb nail scraping roughly against the stubble there, as I turn is his head sharply to one side, putting my lips to his ear.

“Take me home Jamie.”


	4. Final Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

Chapter Four: Final Stand

April 19, 2019 

London 

By the time we made it back to Jamie’s flat, I had sobered up and cooled off to the point where I was almost painfully aware of what I was doing. I stood behind him watching him unlock the door to his flat, eyes drawn to the broad expanse of his shoulders encased neatly in the jacket of his fine linen suit.

Jamie was not flashy in any sense of the word, but he utterly oozed with a quiet sophistication that intimidated me as thoroughly as it aroused me. What kind of women must he have dated over the years? My mind conjured up a long string of super models and globe-trotting actresses making me suddenly very aware of my relative lack of sexual experience. Including Frank, I had slept with exactly three men in my life, all of them either too young, too shy, or too unimaginative to promote any particular sense of adventure in the bed room. As consequence, my idea of “wild sex” was doing it with the lights on.

Once the door is unlocked, he pushes it open, ushering me in ahead of him.

“Home sweet home.” He said, flipping the switch on the wall of the entry way.

For a few minutes, we just stand there, neither of us very sure what to do or what to say. Finally, Jamie takes of his jacket, folding it neatly before hanging it over the back of one of the bar stools at his kitchen island.

“Can I get ye a whiskey?” He said, gesturing in the direction of the liquor cabinet in the corner.

“Please.” I nodded, trying not to seem emphatic.

A minute or so later he returned with two healthy drams.

“Sláinte!” He said, as our raised glasses clinked together.

I smiled, mumbling it back, before draining my glass in one huge gulp. When I looked back at Jamie he was watching me, glass still almost full. He continued watching me as I inched toward his living room.

“Are ye alright Sassenach?” He inquired, raising one brow.

“Fine.” I said, setting my empty glass down on his coffee table, along with my purse. “Why?”

I started walking idly around, pretending to look at the books and other trinkets on his shelves, so I wouldn’t have to look at him. He sat down on his couch, occasionally sipping at his drink, eyeing me.

“Ye seem… nervous.”

“Nervous? W-why would I be nervous?” I resist the urge to fan myself as a means of easing the flushing in my cheeks. “Jesus h- what is it like a thousand degrees in here?”

“Och no- I like to keep it at a crisp nine hundred and ninety-nine.” He said, grinning playfully.

“Hmph.” I said non-commitally as I continued to browse around his space.

“I can open a window?” He offered, making to get up from his spot on the couch.

“No, really, I’m fine.” I said, stopping him.

I picked up my empty glass from his coffee table.

“Do you mind?” I said, turning towards the liquor cabinet, glass in hand.

“Allow me.” He said, draining his own glass as he stood. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

When he returned with two fresh glasses, I was perched stiffly on the couch, hands clasped tightly on my knee. He hands me the drink, and I take it, sipping gratefully.

“Sassenach.”

“Mmphmm?” I say, as I take another large sip.

“Ye can relax.” He said, reaching towards me and gently easing the glass away from my face. “I wasna planning to suddenly force myself on ye.”

I looked down at the floor, hoping to hide the reluctant smile growing on my face.

“I didn’t think that you would.” I said, barely stopping myself from laughing at my ridiculous behavior.

Feeling slightly less awkward now, I went on.

“I just… well back at the pub… things got a little…” I stammered, looking for the right words.

“Intense?” He said, finishing my thought for me.

“Yes, I suppose that’s one word for it.” I said, taking another, much smaller sip.

He watched me for a minute before speaking.

“Do ye want to leave Claire?”

I stared at him, surprised.

“No! No. Unless”, I added, feeling suddenly self-conscious, “I mean, unless you want me to, of course.” 

He sipped his drink, lips turning up in a smirk that nearly took my breath away.

“I dinna want ye to leave Sassenach.”

I nodded and then swallowed hard, forcing the next words out of my mouth, knowing that they needed to be said.

“I just…. I haven’t done this… been with anyone, I mean,” I say, grounding out that last bit through my awkwardness, “In quite a long time.”

“Dinna fash. It’s been some time for me as well.”

“Really?” I said, genuinely surprised.

“Oh aye. I dinna really do… well…” - he gestured vaguely at me, and then back at himself- “this… all that often.”

I smiled, shyly. “Me either.”

He waited a beat before speaking again, his gaze on me shockingly earnest.

“Ye ken that nothing has to happen here tonight, aye? If yer not comfortable or if- ”

I reached out and put my hand over his where it sat between us on the couch.

“I do know that Jamie. I don’t think I’d be here otherwise.”

He smiled at me, hand turning over to take mine, squeezing my fingers gently. My heart skipped a beat thinking of how he’d done that- squeezed my fingers- the first day we met at the rugby match, and then again when I examined his shoulder at the hospital.

“So would you-um- maybe tell me a little bit more about yourself?” I said, hoping to buy myself a little time to get my thoughts together before things progressed any further.

Sometime later I was caught up in a fit of hysterical laughter as Jamie finished a story about a particularly disastrous road trip he’d gone on the previous fall with Rupert, and a few of their old friends from University.

“Wait,” I said, wheezing, trying to catch my breath. We were sitting much closer together on the couch now, turned just a bit so as to face one another. Once I’d composed myself enough to speak coherently, I continued.

“So hang on- if Rupert was that drunk, how’d you…” more giggles, “how’d you manage not to get kicked out of the pub?”

Jamie was a natural born story teller- his eyes were bright and alive with memory, and his voice was deep and captivating. It was impossible not to be drawn in by him.

“Och weel see at one point he’d passed out cold so what we did was we propped him up in his seat, crossed his arms o’er his stomach, and put a pair of sunglasses on him- so he sat there- totally dead to the world- and no one was the wiser.”

We both got a little hysterical for a few minutes, unable to compose ourselves- the intoxicating mix of nerves, laughter, and scotch whiskey bubbling in our veins like pure adrenaline.

“Granted,” He added, still laughing, “They surely must o’ thought him to be a real prick, wearin’ sunglasses inside and all but at least ye canna be tossed out on yer arse for that particular offense.”

I could picture it all too clearly, and was so caught up with laughing, that I didn’t realize he was reaching towards me until I felt his finger on my cheek, moving lightly as it brushed away a tear that had squeezed out as a result of my hysterics.

My eyes popped open and locked with his. The laughter was gone, and something far more potent sizzling between us now. He ran his finger lightly down the curve of my face before withdrawing it. I caught his hand, bringing it back to my face and pressing until it his palm curved against my cheek.

“Claire…” He said, swallowing audibly.

And with that I was lost. Shifting until I was on my knees on the couch beside him, I grabbed him by the front of the shirt, tugging a little to make him lean in towards me. I caught just the faintest glimpse of a stunned smile before I covered his mouth with mine. It was slow at first, unhurried, tentative. He closed his teeth very gently on my bottom lip, spurring me to open to him. For a while, we went on like that- lips pressing together gently, breathing softly into each other’s mouths- until his tongue reached out and touched mine and then suddenly everything was on fire.

My hands clenched harder in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, pressing my body against him. His hands were on me then, one twining itself up in my hair, the other smoothing itself along the curve of my waist. His mouth moved away from mine, leaving a trail of kisses across my cheek before running his teeth along my jaw. I squirmed as I ran my hands up the hard slope of his chest, feeling his tight muscles quiver with a ferocious power kept firmly in check. After pushing him back down onto the couch, I climbed shakily onto his lap, straddling him. I sank down until I could grind the burning heat between legs against the growing hardness between his own.

“Fuck,” He said, chest heaving. I tried to bring his mouth to mine again, but he wrenched away, burying his face in the curve of my neck. He took the sensitive skin there between his teeth, sucking hard, before running his tongue lightly along my ear. I twined my hands hard in his hair, rocking hard against him, listening to the soft growling sounds he made in response. I wondered vaguely whether I had ever been this turned on in my life.

His hands were running up and down my sides, feeling the curve of hips and waist. When he lightly graze the curve of my breast with his thumb, I inhaled sharply. He pulled back then, looking me in the eye.

“Do ye want me to stop?” He breathed.

“No.” I breathed back, sounding desperate.

I leaned down to press my forehead against his, our chests heaving, breaths ragged, as he lightly rested his palm over my breast. 

“Is this okay? Can I touch ye here?”

I leaned in close, until our lips were just barely touching.

“You can touch me anywhere.” I whispered into his mouth, before claiming it with my own.

I felt his answering groan in the tips of my toes. He reached around me then, quickly unzipping my dress, pulling it down until it was bunched around my waist as my fingers flew through the buttons of his shirt with surprising nimbleness. After spreading the shirt open I leaned forward, angling my head so I could dig my teeth into the flesh of his bare chest.

“Christ. Sassenach.” He moaned, grabbing me roughly by the hair, forcing my mouth back to his.

After adjusting my position a bit, he stood, lifting me up off the couch with him. Without thinking, I wrapped my legs tight around his waist as he walked us toward the direction of his bedroom. Something about being wrapped around him like that as he carried made me feel suddenly frantic with the wanting of him.

I dug my teeth into the flesh of his earlobe before whispering, “I need you inside me.”

He stumbled a bit at that and for a second I thought we might crash to the floor. Not that I would have minded. Instead he staggered over to the wall, there in the hallway that led to his bedroom, slamming me back against it. His mouth was warm and frantic on mine, while my hands busied themselves at the clasp of his belt. He broke the kiss, putting his lip to my ear, grinding against me as I whimpered.

“Do ye have any idea,” He began, before reaching down between us to run run his hand over my lacy black panties. He hissed loudly, feeling the wetness there. 

His other hand went to my thigh, still wrapped around him, and gripped it hard enough to leave bruises.

“Do ye have any idea,” He said again, this time through gritted teeth, “How many times I’ve thought about this? How many times I’ve imagined these gorgeous legs wrapped around me?”

“Jamie,” I said, hearing the desperation in my voice and not caring at all, “Jamie. Please.”

I was only vaguely aware of the door slamming shut behind us as he put me back on my feet just inside his bedroom, so he could pull my dress over my head. As he kicked his shoes off, I reached up to ease the already open shirt off his shoulders, before fiddling with the button and fly of his dress pants. He let me ease those down over his hips, before he went for the clasp of my bra. I watched as he stepped out of his briefs, and I had just hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties when he took hold of wrists.

“I’ll see to that.” He said, kissing each one of my wrists, forcing me to walk backwards until we reached the king sized bed in the center of his room. “Just lie back.”

And so, I eased back down onto his bed, bringing him down with me until he loomed over me. For a few minutes he kissed me deeply, grinding slowly, working up a delicious friction. After a while, his mouth left mine, leaving a trail of bites and kisses until he reached my breasts.

He laid his head there for a minute, his hands stroking and cupping reverently.

“Do ye even know how beautiful ye are Claire?”

I hadn’t the slightest notion as to what to say to that. Luckily, I didn’t have to give it much thought. Jamie’s mouth closed on my nipple then, flicking it with his tongue and pressing gently with his teeth. He continued in such fashion for what felt like an eternity before turning to the other one.

“Please,” I cried out, sure I couldn’t stand it anymore, hands clutching tightly at his bedspread.

“No’ yet, mo chridhe.” He answered, before running a hand lightly down my stomach to ghost over the wetness between my legs.

Sometime later I lay with my hand flung over my eyes, panting heavily as he kissed up the inside of my thighs- first on one side, then the other- with agonizing slowness. 

“Look, Sassenach.”

Lifting my arm and raising my head up a bit, I peered down just in time to see him run a heavy, flat tongue up the length of me, through the delicate lace of my panties, holding my gaze all the way. I made some sort of guttural, bleating sound as my head fell back on in the pillows. My back arched sharply when I felt the tickle of his chuckle against my all too sensitive flesh.

Finally, he lifted himself up, and pulled the black lace over my legs, before tossing them on the floor. He eased back to me then, holding my gaze as he lowered his face down between my legs. For a moment, I really thought he might finish me off just from that look alone. That was my last coherent thought before his mouth found me. It was a blur of sensation then; probing, lapping, licking, sucking, humming. After a little while, he gently slipped a finger inside of me and then another, pumping in and out with a steady rhythm as his mouth worked, his other arm thrown across my hips to keep me still.

“Fucking Christ- Jamie!” I cried out loudly with my hands buried in his hair.

“God I want ye so much Claire.” The vibration of his husky voice against my flesh sends me hurtling over the edge, into a waterfall of long, pulsing spasms, with my back arching wildly, and my muscles clenching tightly around his fingers with every tremor of my release.

He kissed his way back up my body, as I lay there recovering and trembling. Eventually his mouth found mine again, and I could taste myself on his tongue.

“Claire,” He said, pulling back, eyes searching mine intently, “I want to be inside ye.”

The look of raw need in his eyes had the heat welling up in me again, sparking a fire even stronger than the one he’d just put out.

After a beat, he was still looking on me, and it dawned on me that he was waiting for my consent. Touched by his thoughtfulness, I reached up to cup his cheek.

“Yes, Jamie. I want you so much.”

He kissed me fiercely at that, rummaging around in his nightstand. After a few moments, I heard the tell-tale crinkling of a foil wrapper. When he was ready, he lowered himself back down to me, bending his head to kiss me deeply while I growled into his mouth, pressing my fingers into his buttocks, trying to pull him into me. When I could stand it no more, I pulled his head back roughly by the scruff of the neck, forcing him to look at me.

“I need you inside me. Right now.” I said, in a tone that brokered no argument.

His eyes change then, locking on me, almost wolf-like. He hitched my legs up around his waist, before slamming into me, making me cry out loudly. Taking my hands in both of his, he pinned me down beneath him as I hooked my ankles together at the small of his back. He set a slow, steady rhythm, and I arched up to meet every powerful thrust.

“Christ, Claire.” He growled in my ear, making me groan.

“Oh god!” I whimpered back, straining wildly against his grip on my wrists. “Harder! Please- Jamie!”

He let go of my wrists and laid his head in the curve of my neck before snaking his arms under mine, taking a firm grip of me by the shoulders. He pounded into me then, with relentless, brutal strokes. I clawed savagely at his black, driving my nails deep into his flesh, and I could feel his teeth on the side of my throat.

With each powerful thrust he reached deep inside me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. When I was nearing the end, Jamie reached down in between us and rubbed me lightly with his thumb until I sobbed his name and came apart beneath him.

His chest was heaving enormously as he brought himself up on his arms, resting over me. His brow was dripping with sweat, furrowed in concentration. As awareness came back to me, I realized he was restraining himself, desperate to hang on to this new and exciting connection between us.

On one hand, I shared his desire to stay in our little bubble of euphoric madness for as long as possible. On the other hand, I wanted nothing more than to watch him lose himself as he went to pieces inside me. 

I pulled him down by the ears until we were nose to nose, with my eyes locked on his.

“Jamie. Please come for me.” I whispered in a breathy voice that didn’t sound like mine. “I want to feel you. Please.”

“Fuck!” He snarled, as he finally let go, thrusting wildly. I kept a firm grip on him, keeping his face pressed to mine, holding his gaze. We were lost in each other then and, to my astonishment, I felt my stomach tighten as he brought me to the edge yet again, pulling us over together with a series of final, frantic thrusts. When it was over, he laid his head on my chest and we held each other, shaking, waiting for the spasms to fade away.

A little while later, he slowly lifted himself up and eased off of me, before slipping quietly off of the bed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to move normally again. My limbs felt like spaghetti noodles, and the aftershocks of my final release were still throbbing in the tips of my fingers and toes. Jamie returned after a few moments, motioning for me to shift so he could pull back the duvet. Once we were under the blankets, he pulled me close, pressed a kiss to my forehead and fell promptly asleep.

Several hours later I woke up on my side, with Jamie’s breath tickling my ear and his arm flung over my middle. I laid there for a moment, listening to him breathe, before sliding out from under his arm, moving slowly so as not to wake him. I slipped on the dress shirt he’d discarded by the floor, and padded quietly into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. It was just after six in the morning.

I stood there in his kitchen, taking stock of myself, reveling in the unaccustomed soreness, when a phone sitting on the kitchen counter went off. Mistaking it for my own, I looked at the screen, remembering too late that mine was in my purse, still sitting on the coffee table.

Jamie had a few notifications, and I didn’t mean to look at any of them. Before I could stop myself, however, I read his most recent message, from an unsaved number, displayed on the top of his locked screen, that read,

I can’t stop thinking about the other night. I love you. 

Call me when you wake up.

The first thing I felt was angry. The second thing I felt was foolish, because I had no bloody right to be angry. By the time I made it back to his bedroom, I was just tired and confused. I was feeling around blindly for my clothes when I heard him stir.

“What’re ye doing Sassenach?” He asked, sleepily.

“Getting dressed.” I said, a little more curtly that I’d meant too. I was still trying to make sense of my feelings. I knew I didn’t have a right to be angry. And yet I was feeling something remarkably close to it. It was too much. He was too much. I just needed to be alone, to sort through my thoughts.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Is something wrong?”

So much for playing it cool, Beauchamp.

I did my best to sound nonchalant. “No, not a thing. Why?”

“Well it’s just—yer leaving so early. I thought maybe-”

“I really just need to get home.” I said, refusing to look up at him. 

By that point I had donned my underwear, and had scooped up my dress when he spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

That caught me off guard.

“For what?” I said, turning to look at him for the first time.

“For… ye know…” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldna have taken things so far last night. I kent ye weren’t sure what ye wanted. I should ha’ taken more care. Made sure ye wanted it.”

“Jamie,” I said, a little exasperated with his thoughtfulness, “What happened last night… well… I think I made it very clear that I wanted it.”

“But now ye regret it.” He looked so pitifully sad in that moment that I wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and spend the rest of the day curled up next to him in bed. 

And then I remembered the message on his phone. Still unable to make sense of what I was feeling, I had no choice other than to just shut down completely. I pulled my dress down over my head, struggling with the zip on the back. I didn’t resist his help when he appeared behind me, but I did step away the moment he’d gotten the zipper up.

“I should get going.” I stated coldly.

He stared at me for a minute, looking confused and hurt. 

“Claire, will ye please tell me what’s wrong.”

Hell if I know, I wanted to say.

Instead I just sighed heavily. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Shoulders slumped in resignation, he walked be down to the entrance of his flat on the street below, where I let him press a chaste kiss to my cheek.

“Will ye call me later Claire?” He said, searching my eyes, hopeful.

“I will.” I choked out, not sure if I meant it. “Goodbye Jamie.”

With that, I turned and walked away from him without looking back. Twenty-five minutes later, I was back in my own flat. Slowly, I sank down to the floor, leaning against my closed front door.

The tears came then, and I wasn’t sure they’d ever stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for Chapter Five this weekend/early next week!


	5. Secrets, yes. Lies, no.

Chapter Five: Secrets, yes. Lies, no. 

April 26th, 2019 

London Heathrow Airport 

I stared at the arrivals board through narrowed eyes trying to decipher the jumble of flight numbers and arrival times. Finally, I found what I was looking for. 

 

FLIGHT #405 | BOSTON —> LONDON | ON TIME | ARRIVED 10:48 

 

I looked down at my watch. It was 12:07. I furrowed my brow, trying to decide if I should worry or not. I’d done more than my fair share of traveling and was well aware of the numerous obstacles that could delay someone while trying to navigate an airport. Taking into account the amount of time it would have taken to get off the plane, make it through customs, collect baggage, that would mean…. 

That’s when I heard his voice. 

“Lady Jane!” His booming voice, distinctively American, rang out across the crowded atrium, and I was beaming before I’d even turned around. 

Joe Abernathy burst out of a sea of strangers, sweeping me up into a crushing hug. After a minute or so, he put me back on my feet, and held me out from him at arm’s length, looking me up and down. 

“Damn girl- London looks good on you!” He declared jovially, before releasing me. “How the hell are ya?” 

God I missed this guy. 

“Christ it’s good to see you Joe. Here, let me help you.” 

I made a grab for the handle of his rolling suitcase, but in the end he only let me carry his leather brown messenger bag. I settled the strap easily on my shoulder before linking my arm with his. 

“Shall we?” 

“Lead the way!” 

And so we made off in the direction of the tube. 

“I do hope you’re not too jet lagged- if you’re only going to give me 24 hours, I plan to make the most of it!” I teased. 

Second only to Geillis, Joe Abernathy was one of my oldest and dearest friends. From the day we met on our first day of medical school, up through my last day at the hospital where we’d both completed our residencies, we were all but inseparable. Just before I left Boston, I’d stood by him as his “Best Man” at his wedding, though I’d refused absolutely to wear a tuxedo. One of the only downsides about my new life in London was that I no longer saw Joe every day, as I had for so many years. So when he called to tell me that he was attending a conference Paris, and could probably manage a brief stopover in London, I all but squealed with excitement. 

We chatted happily all the way to my flat, in that excited, effusive way of old friends catching up after some time apart. I was so happy to see Joe and even happier for the distraction. I’d spent the past week moping about in a sort’ve angry misery, almost constantly at war with myself. I simply could not stop thinking about Jamie, no matter how hard I tried. I heard his voice in my dreams and there were moments I could’ve sworn I felt his touch on my skin. Mystery text from his girlfriend and/or wife quite aside, I was utterly terrified of what I was feeling for him. The simple fact was that I missed him terribly. I wasn’t so naïve as to believe that Joe would drive him from my thoughts entirely, but he could at least provide a welcome distraction. 

“I presume Sabrina the Teenage Witch will be gracing us with her presence at some point?” Joe asked, referring to Geillis. 

Geillis had been to Boston to visit many times and she and Joe had developed an easy, bantering friendship that never failed to make me smile. 

“Of course!” I laughed. “I thought we could have dinner tonight with her and Rupert.” I offered. 

As much as Joe loved and respected women, I was sure he’d appreciated having another guy to talk to. Since I left Frank, our nights out with Gail, Joe’s wife, had consisted largely of Gail and I chatting extensively about the pros and cons of the different fertility treatments that she was considering, while Joe sat and listened quietly. 

“Geillis shift at the hospital is over in a few hours. I’m sure she’ll come over as soon as she’s done.” 

Knowing Geillis as well as I did, though, I was not at all surprised to find her sitting in the center of my ugly red couch, both arms stretched out at length, resting along the back, smiling expectantly. 

“Why Dr. Abernathy!” She said it her best, awful American accent. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, ye had to walk into mine.” 

Joe put his hands on his hips, looking down his nose at her in mock disdain. 

“Geillis Duncan. I see you’ve added breaking and entering to your criminal repertoire.”

“Och, dinna fash Joseph.” She said, leaning forward to grab a set of keys from her purse, and dangling them in explanation. “’Tis no’ breaking and enterin’ if ye’ve got a key!

“You let her have a key?” He said, to me, pointing at Geillis, his face incredulous. “To the place where you sleep?” 

“Not willingly.” I said, putting extra emphasis on the ‘willingly.’ 

“Did you try having your locks changed?”

“Several times.” I shrugged. “But now I’ve just kind’ve accepted it.” 

Geillis nodded, vindicated. “Now really Abernathy, I believe ye owe me a proper greeting.” She said primly, before turning her face and tapping expectantly at her cheek. 

Joe rolled his eyes in exasperated surrender before leaning down to kiss Geillis on her proffered cheek. 

“Besides,” She said, trotting over to my kitchen and producing a large takeaway bag. “I brought ye lunch!” 

A few minutes later, having tucked Joe’s luggage away in my coat closet, we settled ourselves in my tiny living room to catch up over a lunch of deli sandwiches. 

“I thought you were at the hospital until 4?” I said to Geilis, before taking a large bite. 

“Aye but I managed to sneak off a wee bit early. Didna want you two to have any fun without me!” 

I snorted at that, but Geillis continued before I could respond. 

“Oh and by the way,” She said a little too casually, brushing away some crumbs from her shirt. “Rupert told me he invited Jamie to go to dinner with us tonight.” 

I almost choked on my sandwich. 

“What?” I croaked out. 

“Is that alright then?” She asked, her eyes on me intent as a hawk’s. 

I cleared my throat, trying desperately to still the drumming of my heart. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, in any event, he isna coming. Already had plans, he said.” 

Joe jumped in, before I could respond. 

“Hang on- who’s Jamie?” He asked, as a very Grinch-like grin spread across his face. “Did you meet a man Lady Jane?” 

Geillis looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, clearly very interested in my response. 

“He’s just some guy on Rupert’s rugby team. I barely know him.” I said, doing my best to sound unbothered and casual. 

“Jesus!” Joe laughed, clearly not buying it. “I can’t believe you held out on me!” 

I flailed around in my brain, trying to figure out how to regain control of the situation, but I was suddenly and quite inexplicably senseless. In the end, I resorted to simply keeping my mouth shut, and refusing flat out to engage further on the subject. 

After cleaning up the mess from lunch, Geillis and I stepped out to grab coffee and run a few errands, giving Joe some time to take a quick power nap. I did my best to keep the conversation light and as far away from the topic of Jamie as I possibly could. 

The truth was that I wanted desperately to tell Geillis about what had happened after Rupert’s party. There were any number of reasons why I felt that I couldn’t; three of which I could name specifically. First, I was ashamed to admit that I’d been lured into bed by a man that was clearly in some sort of long term committed relationship. (I love you, the message had said.) Second, I was still too confused by my reaction to whole thing and could in no way withstand a Geillis-style interrogation on the matter. Third, Geillis and Jamie were from the same town and had known each other for ages. Whether Jamie had a long-term girlfriend, or worse, a wife, Geillis was clearly unaware of it. I had no interest in stirring up unnecessary drama between the two. 

“Rupert mentioned that Jamie said something verra strange when they spoke.” Geillis said suddenly as we made our way back to my flat, pulling me from my reverie. 

“Oh?” I said, trying to hide the anxiety from my voice. 

“Mmmhmm. His other reason for not joining us tonight.” 

“And what was that?” 

“He said he didna think ye’d like if he came around just now.” 

I winced a little bit at that, and tried to ignore the faint guilt gnawing away at my guts. 

“Any idea what might’ve given him such a notion?” Geilis said. 

“No.” I said shortly, folding my arms tightly against myself. 

“He’s a good guy Claire.” 

“Geillis…”

“He is. And I think ye ken that.” She said, a little crossly. 

“I don’t know that I do.” I retorted, bristling a little. 

“Aye, ye do. Ye just don’t want to admit it.” 

She paused then, biting her lower lip, clearly unsure if she should say anymore. That was very much not like Geillis, and I eyed her suspiciously. 

“Look, I’d not presume to speak for the wee fox cub nor do I want to be spreading his business around, but I feel like I should tell ye. He’s…” She trailed off, looking a bit uneasy. 

“Well he’s no’ had it so easy these past few years. He’s been through more than most men twice his age and, well, whatever’s happening with the two of ye…. I just think ye should try to be patient w’ him.” 

“I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.” I said, more than caught off guard by her revelation. 

“Weel we’re not. No’ really anyway. But it’s hard to keep much of anything secret in the highlands, ye ken?” 

I nod, but don’t answer her, still lost in my thoughts. I knew absolutely that Geillis would not steer my into a relationship with a married or otherwise spoken for man. None of this was making sense. 

“Look, I ken yer not going to tell me what happened between the two o’ ye, but can I just ask ye for one thing? And then I swear I’ll no bother ye about it again.” 

“Okay.”

“I want ye to promise me ye’ll give him a chance.”

I sighed heavily. “Geillis…” 

“At least consider it Claire.” Her green eyes searched mine, encouraging. 

“Fine.” I conceded, sighing heavily. 

“Good. Now what’s our plan of attack for the evening? I mean to send Abernathy off to Paris w’ a nasty hangover to remember us by.” 

By the time we left dinner later that evening, Geillis was well on her way to accomplishing her mission. Joe staggered along, leaning against me with his arm draped heavily over my shoulder, as Rupert led us on a quest to find a decent pub. I rarely got to see Joe like this and was laughing hysterically at his nonsensical mumblings. 

“Aye, here’s the place!” Rupert announced as he led us to the open doors of the pub on the corner. With a sinking feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, I realized that it was the same pub that Jamie and I had stolen away to after Rupert’s party. We settled at a large table in the corner and I drew several surprised glances when I uncharacteristically ordered a shot along with my first pint, hoping to dispel the momentary sense of disquiet. I was determined to enjoy this night out with my friends, but even as I talked and told stories and laughed, I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes away from the bar, where Jamie and I had sat, knees touching, only a week before. 

I was still looking at those creaky bar stools when I heard Geillis’s slurred voice calling out from the seat next to me. 

“Well fancy seeing you here my wee fox cub!” 

My mouth went dry. I turned my head to see Jamie enter the pub, with a beautiful young woman by his side. Jamie looked a little stunned to see us (me) and shot a ruthless glare at Rupert, who simply grinned broadly and beckoned them over. They made their way over to our table and for a second I thought I might throw up. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the woman who’d sent that message. My cheeks burned with shame. I cursed myself for my weakness and for allowing myself to fall into bed with another woman’s man. She was pretty and petite, with black hair and a pair of clear blue eyes that were eerily similar to Jamie’s. Her voice rang out in a lyrical highland lilt when she spoke. 

“Rupert Mackenzie and Geillis Duncan,” She said, eyes dancing with mischief, “I’d heard you two were an item these days but I didna believe it.” 

I didn’t hear the resulting laughter and banter as I slipped out of my seat. After spending a few minutes in the bathroom breathing deeply, I went over to the bar, pretending to look at the drink menu as I endeavored to compose myself. 

I was attempting to absorb myself in the list of imported stouts when I heard a deep Scottish voice rumbling next to me. 

“Havin’ some trouble deciding there, Sassenach?” 

My heart turned over at the sound of his voice, but I was determined to maintain my dignity. 

“Mmphm.” I grumbled, refusing to look at him. 

There was a long silence before he spoke again. 

“So yer still angry w’ me then.” It wasn’t a question and the sadness in his voice was almost enough to quell my aggravation with him. Almost. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your girlfriend?” I said, glaring down at the menu, trying to put enough acerbity in my tone to discourage any further conversation. 

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend?” I looked up at him then, his warm blue eyes narrowed in utter confusion. 

“The one you’re here with!” I hissed, thoroughly exasperated. 

A slow, infuriating smile spread across his face then and I was suddenly consumed with what I assumed must be the kind of rage that lead people to vandalize private property. 

“When did I say she was my girlfriend?” He asked, propping his elbow on the bar, resting his chin in his hand, leaning toward me until I could feel his breath on my face. 

“When did you say that she wasn’t?” I countered, staring him down with the most ferocious glare I could muster. 

“Hang on Sassenach… are you… jealous?” 

I scoffed too loudly at that, jerking back as if I’d been struck. 

“Well now you’ve completely lost your mind. Why on earth would I be jealous?” 

“I dinna ken, why don’t ye tell me.” 

“I will have you know that I could not possibly care less who you choose to spend your time with James Fraser.” 

“Is tha’ so?” Maddeningly unbothered by my disdainful tone. 

“Yes. In fact, she seems lovely, why don’t you introduce us?” I bluffed, feeling angry and bold. 

“Oh with pleasure, Sassenach.” 

He turned to call the woman over and I stiffened my spine. 

“Hey Jenny!! C’mere for minute, will ye?” 

The woman called Jenny was in the middle of a conversation with Geillis, and put up a finger in Jamie’s direction, indicating that she’d be with us in a moment. I swallowed and tucked my hair behind my ears, feeling absurdly self-conscious. When I looked back at Jamie, he was watching me, barely containing laughter. 

“What?” I spat out. 

“Nothing.” He mumbled. 

A minute later, Jenny made her way over to us. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and tried to look casual. When she reached us, Jamie put a large arm around her. 

“Jenny- I’d like ye to meet a friend of mine- Claire Beauchamp.” 

She stuck out a hand, and I took it. 

“Claire, this is, Jenny.” 

I opened my mouth to speak. 

“My older sister.” 

I froze. Wait, what? 

Jenny released my hand and rolled her eyes. “Ye dinna have to call me yer older sister James! Just sister would suffice.” 

She winked at me and I simply blinked back, stunned. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I finally squeaked out. 

We exchanged pleasantries for a few more minutes before Jenny went back to rejoin the group at the table. Jamie and I stood there in silence for a few minutes. When I finally forced myself to look at him, he was grinning at me, the human embodiment of the cat that swallowed the canary. 

“I suppose you think you’re clever.” I said dryly. 

“I dinna ken what ye mean, Sassenach.” He retorts, eyes intent on mine in all their glittering glory. 

Before I could think of something witty to say back, Geillis called to us from the table. 

“Grab us another round, aye? Or are ye loons just gonna sit over there and make eyes at each other all night long?” 

A few hours later, I dragged an absolutely pissed Joe Abernathy up the stairs to my flat, panting with exertion the entire way. He was totally unhelpful, and incapable of coherent speech until I pushed him down onto my bed fully clothed. 

“Not that I’m not flattered by the gesture Lady Jane but I’ll have you know I’m a married man!” He said, slurring hugely, laughing hysterically at his own joke. 

“In your dreams Abernathy.” I quipped back, grabbing some blankets and making a bed for myself on the couch. 

The flat was silent for a few minutes and I assumed that Joe and fallen asleep, so I jumped a little when I heard the loud incoherent rambling coming from the direction of my bed. 

“What?” I said, laughing appreciatively at the novelty of an inebriated Joe. 

“I saaaiiiid,” He half yelled, “That big red bastard’s got it real bad for you Lady Jane.” 

I barely had a moment to absorb this before the sound of Joe’s loud snoring echoed through the darkness of my flat. Sometime later, I was laying wide awake on my couch, staring up at the ceiling, when I heard my phone buzz. 

Six and a half minute later, I stepped out onto the sidewalk outside my flat. Jamie is waiting for me, hands stuffed into his jacket, eyes dark and intent. I crossed my arms tightly across my middle, standing a good distance away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked. 

He didn’t answer at first. For a minute or so, he just looked at me. I began to think that perhaps he hadn’t heard me and was about to repeat myself when he took a step towards me. 

“Will ye no’ put me out o’ my misery Claire?” 

I blinked at him for a beat, totally thrown off.

“What?” 

He sighed heavily, taking another step towards me. 

“I think ye know I’ve been mad about ye since the day I saw ye at the Rugby pitch. And after that night we spent together…. well.. “ He shrugged, helpless. “I thought ye felt something for me too.” 

I opened my mouth to say something, but he held up a hand, indicating that he had more to say. I shut my mouth again, and waited. 

“But then the next morning ye could barely look at me. I thought ye hated me. I’ve spent the last week going crazy trying to figure out what I did. I thought I’d blown my shot wi’ ye before tonight. I ken what jealousy looks like Sassenach. Ye’ve got me hoping again and I dinna think I can bare it.”

He was looking at me, eyes sad and earnest as a wounded puppy. It suddenly dawned on me how poorly I’d treated him. He didn’t deserve that and I felt dreadfully ashamed. I looked down at my feet and blinked back tears. 

“I canna keep this up.” He said, so quietly I barely heard him. “Ye’ve got me out o’ my mind Sassenach. Just tell me the truth o’ what ye feel for me. I’m beggin’ ye.” 

I took a shaky breath and finally forced myself to look at him again. 

“I do feel something for you Jamie. And it scares the hell out of me.” 

His face crumbled into a state of such unabashed tenderness that I almost dissolved completely. 

“Dinna be scared of me, mo chridhe… “ 

He walked toward me then, closing the last of the distance between us. 

“Hang on.” I said putting my hands up, stopping him just before he reached me. “Before this goes any further, I need to ask you something.” 

“Anything.” He said, his eyes searching mine. 

I closed my eyes took a deep breath, and finally told him about the message, heart pounding furiously. 

“I am sorry for looking at your phone, and you should know I would never intentionally invade your privacy. But after I saw it…. well… I couldn’t un-see it. You know?” I finished lamely. 

He didn’t say anything for a minute and I wondered if maybe I’d scared him off. I wasn’t sure I would’ve blamed him. His face was utterly impossible to read, but I could see traces of anxiety mixed with utter emotional exhaustion written in the tense lines of his body. 

“Aye, I ken.” He said, finally. 

“So… ?” 

He sighed heavily before answering me. 

“Ye have my word Sassenach, I’m no’ playing ye false. I’m a single man. Ye have my word.” His eyes searched mine, begging me to believe him. 

I believed him completely the moment he spoke the words. I cleared my throat. 

“Can I ask who sent the message then?” I asked tentatively, taking a step towards him. 

“That’s… complicated…” He trailed off, suddenly looking a little panicked. I was close enough to touch him now and put a comforting hand on his arm. 

“Maybe a little too complicated for 4 in the morning?” I smirked. 

He smirked back at me, covering my hand with his own. “Aye. Maybe so.” 

I let him stroke the back of my hand lightly with his thumb for a few minutes before I pulled my hand back. 

“I understand complicated Jamie. Believe me. And I can live with secrets. Just not lies.” 

He nodded, considering. 

“Do ye trust me, Claire?” He looked almost afraid of my answer. 

“Yes.” I answered, without hesitation. I smiled faintly as he let out a huge sigh of relief. 

“Will ye make a deal w’ me then?” He said, reaching out, taking both of my hands in his. 

“What’d you have in mind?” I asked, giggling a little at the sudden formality. 

“Two things.” 

“Alright.” 

“First,” He began, lifting my right hand to his lips, “I promise that I’ll never make ye tell me something before yer ready. Can ye promise me the same?” 

I nodded, mute. 

“Second,” He continued, this time kissing my left hand, “I swear to ye that when I do tell ye something, it will be the truth.” 

“So do I.” I replied without hesitation. 

“Secrets, but no’ lies. Aye?” He said, smiling. 

“Aye.” I agreed, smiling back. 

He pulled me close against him then, lowering his forehead to rest against mine. 

“I dinna want to play games anymore Claire.” He whispered, his breath warm and sweet on my face.

“Neither do I.” 

He put a finger under my chin, tilting me up to face him. 

“Will ye have dinner w’ me tomorrow night?” He said, slowly lowering his head to bridge the distance between us. 

“Yes.” I breathed back, feeling the smile on his lips as they pressed against mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 coming soon!


	6. A Wee Stroll In The Twilight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little NSFW at the end

Chapter Six: A Wee Stroll In The Twilight 

April 27th, 2019

Geillis Duncan and I had been friends for over a decade and in all that time, she’d never once been wrong. Not about the important stuff anyway. She’d always told me what I needed to hear, even when I didn’t want to hear it.

She was right when she told me take the terrifying plunge, and move across the Atlantic to attend medical school. She told me so even though it meant I wouldn’t be attending school with her, and would be forced thousands of miles away.

She was right when she told me that my relationship with Frank wasn’t healthy, that he wasn’t good for me. She told me so, even though I didn’t want to believe it, even though I called her a bad friend and didn’t speak to her for two days.

So, when she told me that I should give Jamie a chance- I knew she was right then too. That night when Jamie came to my flat, I resolved there and then that I would follow my best friend’s advice.

It would’ve been a lie to say that I had forgotten completely about the mysterious message on his phone. It was undoubtedly suspicious and I would probably need to know more of the story eventually, if this relationship was going to progress. When Jamie asked me to trust him, I did, without hesitation. That didn’t mean I never thought about it. But it was only a burning curiosity, not distrust or jealousy, that brought it to my mind now.

I came to realize that my initial reaction to seeing it was the reaction of a woman I didn’t recognize anymore. A woman who’d been made to feel dull, uninteresting and unwanted. A woman who was made to feel that way by a man who acted as though he would’ve been just as happy in anyone else’s company as he was in hers. Jamie didn’t deserve that woman’s demons, and neither did I.

The morning of our dinner date, I woke up feeling like a teenager with butterflies in my stomach. After dragging a ridiculously hungover Joe Abernathy to the airport for his flight to Paris, I spent the entire afternoon agonizing over my outfit- something I scarcely did. I finally settled on an old favorite of mine- a simple black wrap dress that quarter length sleeves and a somewhat low cut scoop neckline.

At exactly seven o’clock, he knocked at my door. He looked so effortlessly handsome in a plain white button up and blazer. The second he saw me his eyes went wide and he made this loud whistling sound that had my cheeks burning like fire. I was ridiculously pleased and didn’t care if it showed. Little did I know, he was just warming up.

From the moment he took my hand to lead me out of my building, I had his full attention and he made sure I knew it. He kept a firm grip of my hand throughout the short 10 minute walk to the trendy Italian restaurant where he’d made reservations. He played idly with my fingers as we waited to be seated, never taking his eyes off mine as we spoke.

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, and he absorbed everything I told him about my life, my work, my pastimes- asking me questions, and encouraging me to tell him more. I was just as eager, if not more so, to know him and he indulged me as I peppered him with a litany of questions, always taking the chance to make me laugh whenever possible.

Towards the end of dinner I noticed him watching me intently as I took a final swig from my second glass of wine. I narrowed my eyes and watched him right back. He was leaned back slightly in his chair, with his elbow on the arm rest and his chin resting in the palm of his hand, his eyes intent on my face, his expression unreadable.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, smirking.

A slow smile spread across his face. “I’m looking at you.”

As if that much wasn’t obvious. “Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” He stated simply. I could see from the deep blue of his eyes that he meant it.

My stomach dropped and my mouth went dry. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes from his. After a beat, I managed to break the spell, clearing my throat.

“Are all you lawyers such smooth talkers?” I quipped, a feeble attempt at a joke trying to ease the tension. I seriously regretted not ordering that third glass of wine.

“Only the good ones.” His smile made it clear that he knew exactly what kind’ve effect he was having on me.

After Jamie paid the check, we left the restaurant, strolling leisurely on the sidewalk hand in hand.

“I love this time of year.” Jamie said dreamily. “The air’s so sweet and it stays light out so much longer.”

“It does. I’d forgotten that.” I said, losing myself in his reverie. “In Boston, days are never as long as they are here. Even in mid-summer.”

“Och well ye ken in the highlands, the days are even longer. Ye ever hear of the summer dim?”

I shook my head, urging him to go on.

“It’s a time about mid-summer, when the light never really goes away. Even at midnight, the sky’s got this lovely purple hue to it.”

“That sounds magical.”

“Tis.” He said, in a way that told me he was thinking of his home. I wondered if he’d take me there someday.

“‘Course,” He went on, interrupting my musings, “In the winter it’s the exact opposite, aye? The days grow so short it feels as though ye’ve not seen the sun in ages.”

Before I could respond, he squeezed my hand, suddenly inspired.

“Would ye maybe fancy a wee stroll in the twilight, Sassenach? Kensington Gardens is no’ far from here.”

We spent the next hour meandering lazily through luscious greens, fingers intertwining playful as our linked hands swung between us. We talked about anything and everything. He told me about his family- his parents, Brian and Ellen, his sister Jenny- and about the family business- The Lallybroch Equestrian Center.

“My Da inherited all the land, but after they were married, him and my Mam built Lallybroch from the ground up.” He said, positively glowing with pride with his parents. “They started with just a few decent studs and a staff of 5, but they worked hard and made connections and now they’re known for producing some of the finest race horses in Great Britain.”

“They sound like quite the dream team.”

“Och, aye.” He said with a smile that reached his eyes. “What about you? What do your parents do?”

I sighed, not wanting to put a damper on a perfectly pleasant evening, but not seeing how I had any other choice.

“Well my father was a doctor. But he died when I was little. Him and my Mother.”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face me, eyes full of shock and sympathy.

“Christ, Claire, I’m so sorry.”

I waved off his apology as I had done, with so many people, so many times before.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Doesna make it any easier though.”

There was a knowing in his voice and in his eyes that took me off guard.

“It doesn’t.” I said, taking his other hand in mind, stroking the backs of both with my thumbs.

He stared down at our clasped hands, as though he was considering what to say next. There was a long, charged silence before he finally spoke.

“We lost my older brother Willie last year.” He said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

I gripped his hands tighter, as if by reflex. He raised his head up to look at me.

“Jamie… I-“

Without conscious thought, I brought my hand up to cup his cheek.

“I know.” He stopped me, bringing his own hand up to rest over mine, holding it there.

“I’ve not told anyone that.” He said, almost shyly. “I’ve not spoken of him, I mean. Not since it happened.”

“Thank you for telling me.” I replied softly, standing up on tip toes to plant feather light kiss on his cheek.

He smiled at me, and we resumed our stroll, hand in hand. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he cleared his throat.

“So is that why you became a doctor, then? Because of your father?”

I considered for minute before answering.

“Well…. yes and no. When I was little and I wanted to be a Doctor it was because my Dad was one. But then I got older… realized I had a knack for science and anatomy. Eventually it became more about me and what I wanted to do with my life.”

“It must be nice for you though- to feel connected to him in that way. Aye?”

“That’s true.” I said, smiling despite myself. “It does.”

Before he could say anything else, another thought came to me and I blurted it out, surprising myself.

“Though, I guess if I’m being honest with myself- I became a doctor for them both. Him and my Mom.”

“Was she a doctor too?”

“No, she was a teacher. But.. well they died in a car accident. The injuries… they should’ve been treatable. I mean they were very serious, but not necessarily fatal. The hospital they were taken to was understaffed; only a few doctors on duty and hardly any of them knew what they were doing.”

I swallowed audibly, trying to rid myself of a lump in my throat. It occurred to me that I was giving this man access to parts of me that I rarely even let myself look at up close. For some reason, with him, it didn’t feel like I had any other choice.

“In medical school I had the charts from that day- their charts- digitized and emailed to me. For a while, every night before I went to sleep, I would go over in my head step by step what I would’ve done, how I would’ve saved them…”

I came back to myself then, and suddenly felt very exposed. At first he didn’t say anything, only walked beside me in somber silence. And then, he stopped and turned to me, taking my face in his hands.

“They would’ve been so proud of ye, Claire.” He spoke softly, but with such certainty, that he could’ve been telling me that the sky was blue or that the post didn’t run on Sundays. His eyes bored into mine, earnest and insistent, making sure I knew it too.

When my eyes began to prick with tears, he pressed his lips to my forehead and wrapped his arms around me. We stood there like that for a long while. His arms locked tight about my waist, his lips on my hair. My hands resting on his chest, face pressed to the curve of his neck.

No one had ever said that to me before and I never realized until that moment just how badly I’d needed to hear it.

“Thank you.” I finally managed to squeak out.

He kissed me on the top of the head then, leaving his lips there for a few more heartbeats, before he released me.

“Might I have the pleasure of escorting you home, Dr. Beauchamp?” He said, offering me his arm.

And just like that, the moment passed. Though it had been brief, I knew I would never forget it. But it was over now and the air around us once again sizzled with electricity.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Fraser.” I giggled back, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow.

As we walked away, he leaned in close, whispering, “Oh I intend it to be.”

The low rumble of his voice and the suggestive slant of his eyes struck me like lightening, sending a shock straight up between my legs. We took the long way home, giggling and teasing and getting drunk on each other. I knew we were trying to savor the anticipation and by the time we stumbled back into my flat I was almost feral.

Consumed with an urgent need to please him, I was bloody unstoppable. Once the door was closed, I pressed him back against it grinding into him sinking my teeth into the curve of his throat, making a statement. I was going to take the wheel this time. At least for now.

“Christ, Sassenach.” He breathed helplessly into my mouth as I wrestled off his blazer, before setting my fingers to the buttons of his shirt. He brought his hands up to assist in the process, and I immediately grabbed snatched him by the wrists, pinning them firmly at is sides.

“Oh, so it’s like that aye?” His voice was husky and thick.

“Aye.” I purred back, never breaking eye contact as I made quick work of his shirt.

I dragged him over to my living my room area, pushing him unceremoniously down on the couch.

“Sit.” I commanded.

He licked his lips, watching me through hooded eyes as I slowly kicked off my shoes and slid my panties down over my legs. I clambered up onto his lap to straddle him and his hands immediately came to my hips. Once again, I forcibly removed them, placing them firmly down at his sides.

“Slow learner, I see.” I whispered into his ear as I began to grind against him.

He groaned loudly, but complied, leaving his hands clenched in fists at his sides. I snaked a hand down between us, running my hand over the bulge between his legs.

“Who’s this for, Jamie?” I said, not recognizing my own voice.

“You.” He gasped back. “Claire-”

I cut him off by putting my mouth on his, invading it with my tongue, breathing in his moans like oxygen. I could feel the muscles in his arms tensed to the point of shaking with the urge to touch me. I had never felt so powerful, nor so desirable in all my life.

I wrenched my mouth away from his, reveling in the breathless sound he made in response.

“Guess I better do something about it then.”

I made a trail of biting, sucking, kisses, beginning high on his neck, just below his ear, running down the hard slope of his chest. Eventually I slid off his lap and on to my knees on the floor in front of him.

His breathing hitched and then grew even more labored when my hands came to the clasp of his trousers. Once the long, hard length of him finally sprung free, I put my hands behind his knees and tugged a bit, urging him to scoot forward a bit. Once he complied, I ran a teasing tongue up the length of him, ghosting over his flesh, not quite touching.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his head falling back with a thud.

When I finally did take him in my mouth, his hips arched off the couch. I set a good rhythm, taking more and more of him each time I sunk down. I looked up at him, the sight of him coming apart at my touch, completely under my control, was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen in my life. I had never known doing this for a man could be like this, and I couldn’t get enough.

I brought my head up again, letting him slide out of my lips with an audible pop. His head shot up as he whimpered loudly.

“Watch.” I growled.

I could see his throat working as he swallowed when I brought my mouth back down to him. His gaze stayed locked on mine as I bobbed up in down. 

“Claire.” He groaned out, desperate. “Can I touch ye now?”

When I nodded my leave, he brought his hands to my head, running his hands through my hair. Minutes passed as I worked him harder and harder. I knew he was getting close. When he made to hastily move me off of him, I clamped my hands down on his legs, holding him in place.

“Sassenach,” He moaned. “If ye don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

I cut him off with a loud hum, and he could do no more than hiss in response. He was right at the edge now.

“Fuck- Claire- yer- incredible- please-dinna-stop.” He rasped between frantic breaths.

When it was over, I sat back on my haunches, grinning victoriously up at him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

He peered down at me as he laid back, panting, trying to recover.

“Ye… are ye… Christ…. are ye tryin’ to put me out o’ commission before the night’s even begun?”

“My apologies,” I said in mock innocence. “I didn’t realize you couldn’t handle more than once in a single evening. I’ll go easier on you next time.”

His head popped up at that, and he chuckled as he shook his head at me. “Yer gonna live to regret that Sassenach.”

My grin got wider. “Am I?”

Before I knew what was happening he had me up in his arms, slinging me up over his shoulder. I squealed loudly, giggling in anticipation the entire way to my bed.

The next morning, I awoke in my bed, Jamie snoring peacefully, his head on my chest. I gazed at him reverently, running a lazy finger down the slope of his arm and stroking his hair, my heart nearly stopping when I saw the curve of his mouth turn up in a smile as he slept.

I was allowed only a few more minutes of peaceful observation before he stirred, immediately pressing kisses to each of my breasts before he started working a lazy, meandering trail down my stomach.

“Good Morning to you too.” I chuckled.

He merely grunted in response, not wanting to be deterred from his course. A few minutes later, I sighed heavily.

“Something on yer mind, Sassenach?” He said into the skin at my hipbone.

“Nothing really.” I said dreamily. “Just something that I have to tell Geillis.”

“Aye? And what’s that?”

“She was right.” I gasped as lips reached the apex of my thighs.

“Again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to look out for in Chapter 7- a wee time jump and more revelations about the mystery text! Check back soon!


	7. Revelations

August 3rd, 2019 

“Will you stop that?” I whispered, laying a hand on Jamie’s knee where it bounced incessantly next to mine. He smiled at me apologetically. 

“I’m nervous Sassenach, I canna help it.” 

We sat side by side on a bench outside the restaurant where we’d gone for our first official date just three months earlier. This was our first time coming back here since and my heart soared with the memory of it. 

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright.” I laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. 

“Mmphh. If ye’d given me a wee bit more notice, I might’ve had time for a trim.” He huffed as he ran a hand through his perfect, though admittedly a bit long, auburn hair. “I dinna want him to think ye’ve taken up w’ a bum.” 

I stole a glance at him, in his freshly dry-cleaned three-piece suit as he checked his Rolex wristwatch. 

“Indeed.” I said, dryly. 

He continued to tap his foot and anxiety radiated from him. 

“How was work today?” I asked, hoping to change the subject. 

“Hmmm?” He intoned, suddenly absorbed with something on his phone. “Oh. Fine.” 

I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t like Jamie to be on his phone so much. He hated texting and rarely did so unless necessary. I watched him curiously as he leaned forward, eyes intent on the small screen, fingers tapping incessantly against his thigh. Whatever he was looking at, it certainly wasn’t calming him down. 

“Anything you’d like to share?” I teased. 

“Huh?” He asked, pulling his eyes to meet mine. 

I nodded down towards the phone and his cheeks flushed slightly with realization. 

“Oh! It’s nothing, just…” 

He sighed, resigned, and offered the phone to me. 

I only had to glance down at it for the briefest of seconds before I knew what it was. Key words stuck out to me at once. 18th century warfare. Jacobites. Culloden. Artifacts. In the end I was hopeless to suppress the giggle that bubbled to the surface. 

“Studying up are you?” I said as I handed the phone back to him. 

“I was hoping to impress him!” He said shyly, pouting at my teasing. “Like I said, I didna recieve much in the way of advanced notice.” 

I was, as I usually was when it came to him, torn between adoration and utter exasperation. I took his face between my hands and forced him to look at me. 

“Jamie, listen to me.” I said, my heart catching a little when I saw the genuine concern hiding in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. “He won’t care about your haircut, or how well versed you are in history. He’s not like that. All he’s ever wanted is for me to be happy.” 

“And are you? Happy?” He asked. 

“Yes, Jamie.” I said softly. “You make me happy.” 

I was rewarded with a smile that could’ve rivaled the sun. He pressed his lips to mine before leaning back and throwing an arm heavy across my shoulders, holding me close. He sighed deeply as he finally relaxed. I nuzzled close, wondering dimly to myself when I started being this openly affectionate in public. There was a time when I’d scarcely hold a man’s hand on the street, much less embrace him openly on a public bench. I searched myself for anything resembling embarrassment and found none. I decided it must’ve been another part of me that I’d hidden away deep inside myself. Another part of me that Jamie had carefully searched for, recovered, and brought to life in his hands. Not unlike an archeologist, I mused. 

The past summer with Jamie, our first together, had been nothing short of magical. In the beginning, I had tried desperately to hold myself back from him. I told myself to be cautious, to go slow. But I was crazy about Jamie from the start and as time went on I spent less and less mental energy trying to deny it. I kept waiting for it to feel real- for him to feel real. And then one day I realized that he was real. Real and human and flawed just like any other man. He talked way too much during movies, he was as stubborn as a mule and absolutely refused to wear sunscreen no matter how much I prodded and don’t even get me started on the snoring. But none of it mattered. Not to me. Yes, Jamie was real. And flawed. And perfect. And mine. 

I sighed contentedly, leaning against his shoulder when I saw a familiar face walking towards us. 

He looked the same as he had the last time I’d seen him. Tall, broad shouldered, with salt and pepper hair and an easy smile. 

“Lamb!” I squealed in delight as I launched myself into his arms. 

He laughed, embracing me warmly for a long while before putting me down. His hands came up to cup my cheeks. 

“I’ve missed you my girl!” He said jovially before pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Not as much as I’ve missed you!” I said, linking my arm with his and leading him over to Jamie who was standing back just a few feet away. 

“Lamb, this is Jamie.” I proclaimed, my voice dripping with pride. “Jamie, this is my Uncle Lambert.” 

Jamie smiled, gripping Lamb’s hand in a firm shake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Professor Beauchamp.” 

“You as well, my boy. And please, call me Lamb.” 

By the time we were seated at our table, the fidgeting anxious Jamie was no where to be seen. Instead, the charming, witty, blue eyed bastard was back in full force. I had to remind myself not to roll my eyes. The man could charm the pants off a nun and he bloody well knew it. 

“You must be special then, hmm?” Lamb asked, studying Jamie curiously. “Claire doesn’t usually let her young men around me so easily.” 

“Special? Nay sir, just persistent.” Jamie smiled warmly, blue eyes twinkling. “I’m quite an admirer of yer work ye see.” 

“Are you indeed?” Lamb said, not even trying to pretend to be impressed. While I had not introduced him to many of my boyfriends, all of the ones he had met had tried to pull the same trick. And Lamb couldn’t stand a kiss up. He always challenged them, pressed them for specifics, and in the end they always crumbled. Bull-shitting your way through a conversation with a world-renowned archeologist was no small task. 

Undeterred, Jamie pressed on. “Oh aye. In fact, I was hoping to seek out your professional opinion.” 

“My opinion?” 

“Aye. Ye see, my father has always been an avid study of Scottish history and an even more avid collector of artifacts. Military artifacts, specifically. It’s a hobby we’ve always shared together.” 

Lamb raised a single gray brow. He hadn’t seen that coming. “Go on.” 

“We recently acquired a 1745 issue Brown Bess with all the original mechanics. We think we might be able to get it to full functioning.” 

Lamb’s eyes bugged out of his head and I nearly choked on the wine I was sipping. The “Brown Bess” was a muzzle-loaded smoothbore land pattern musket issued by the British army in the 18th century. Lamb’s specialty as an archeologist was in 18th century weaponry. Being raised by him since early childhood, I knew that a fully in tact Brown Bess with all the original parts was rare to say the least. 

“A 1745? With the original flintlock?” 

“Aye. I’ve pictures, if ye’d like to take a look.” 

Lamb nodded eagerly, feeling around in his jacket pocket for his spectacles. Jamie handed him the phone, and Lamb handled it gingerly as though he had just been given an actual artifact, and not just a picture of one. 

“Why, that’s simply extraordinary.” Lamb said reverently. 

By the time our food arrived, Lamb was still enchanted with the musket. 

“I agree with you.” He said decisively, nodding at Jamie. “It was almost definitely used at some point during the ’45 rising- and though it would be herd to say for certain, I am confident that it was most likely originally issued to an English soldier. Every man in the King’s army would’ve been issued one in 1745. The Jacobites did have some muskets but they were almost exclusively reserved for officers.” 

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I’m sure my father would be honored to have you examine it in person. Should ye find the time in yer schedule, of course.” 

“My dear boy I would be delighted!” Lamb rejoiced, his smile touching his eyes. 

I spent most of the dinner trying and failing not to smile stupidly as I watched them bond. Uncle Lamb was so precious to me. He was the only flesh and blood I had left on this earth. And while that was the root of my fondness for him, it certainly wasn’t the sustaining force. When my parents died, and the task of caring for me fell to him, Lamb had been little more than a child himself. At 29, he had been single, unattached, and on the cusp of a truly singular career. And yet he never, not for a second, made me feel like a burden. He made me feel loved, wanted, and cherished. It wasn’t something that he decided to do, it was just in his nature. Seeing them now, side by side, I was caught up in the similarities between the two men. Strength. Honor. Gentleness. 

After dinner, we walked Lamb to his hotel a few blocks away. When the time for goodbyes came, Lamb reached a hand out to Jamie, gripping his shoulder firmly in the way he reserved for those he held in the highest regard. 

“Jamie, it really was a pleasure to meet you. Truly.” He said. 

“The pleasure was mine, sir.” 

“I’ll take a look at my lecture schedule and be in touch about my coming to take a look at that bess.” 

“I very much look forward to it.” 

Jamie stood back a little then, giving Lamb and I a bit of privacy to say our own goodbyes. Lamb embraced me briefly and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. 

“You’ve got yourself a fine young man there, my girl.” He said to me in a low voice. 

My answering grin nearly split my face in two. “I know.” 

Later, back at Jamie’s flat, I sat cross-legged on his bed watching him brush his teeth. Jamie’s eyes caught mine in the mirror. 

“Something I can help ye with, Sassenach?” He said after he’d finished brushing, wiping his mouth. 

Flicking off the bathroom light, he strolled towards me, keeping a wide berth as he eyed me, like a panther stalking it’s prey. 

“I was just thinking.” I said, moving from the bed to dig through the overnight bag that had taken up permanent residence at his flat. The bag sat on a chair in the corner of his room and I faced away from him as I rumbled through it. I was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt (his) and a pair of white lace panties and probably bent over a little more than was strictly necessary. I smile to myself hearing him grunt appreciatively behind me. 

“Oh aye? What were ye thinking of then?” 

As I turned to answer him, he reached his arms out and stretched, arching his back and drawing my attention to the hard curved muscles of his stomach and narrow hips, where his black cotton sleep pants hung just a little too low. 

“Oh… this and that.” I shrugged nonchalantly before sprawling out on his big bed. 

Jamie chuckled, lowering himself down on the bed and crawling slowly up over my body until he settled on top of me. 

“Care to elaborate?” He rasped in my ear, teeth nipping gently. 

“Hmmm…. no I don’t think so.” I breathed back. 

“That’s a shame.” He said clicking his tongue disapprovingly as he made to rise off of me. 

I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him back. “Where are you going?” 

“Well if ye willna tell me what ye were thinking, how will I know how to please ye?” He reasoned, ghosting his lips over the curve of my jaw. 

“As if you’ve ever struggled in that particular area.” I muttered sarcastically. 

Jamie chuckled. “Flattery won’t help ye this time. Start talking.” 

I rolled my eyes in resignation. “Fine.” 

I reached up and lightly traced his mouth with my finger. 

“I was thinking about this.” I admitted, breathy. 

“Oh aye?” He grinned. “What about it?” 

“How it feels. Against my skin.” 

Jamie hummed in reply, smiling against my throat. “Ye have verra fine skin Sassenach. Like pearl.” 

He ran his tongue lightly along the curve of my ear making me gasp. “Indeed, ye have a lot of fine skin. Is that what ye had in mine?” 

I was panting at this point, my hands buried in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Y-yes. Something like that.” 

Before Jamie could respond there was a loud knock at his door, making us both jump. 

“What on earth?” I said sitting up. “I didn’t hear anyone buzz in.” 

Jamie didn’t respond immediately, but rather slipped on a t-shirt and made to leave the bedroom. 

“Stay here a second, Sassenach.” 

He looked concerned so I didn’t argue, just nodded silently. I threw on a pair of leggings, ears straining. Finally, I heard Jamie’s voice. He sounded irritated, but not alarmed, and I relaxed. 

“John? What the hell are ye doing here? D’ye have any idea what time it is?” 

I tiptoed out of his bedroom and went to peer around the corner towards the front door of his flat. Standing next to Jamie was a man I’d never met before. Tall, early thirties, clean cut, handsome. He was about to respond to Jamie when he caught my eye and realized I was there. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.” He said, trying to hide the embarrassed smirk on his face. 

Jamie turned to me, his face softening instantly. 

“Och aye, sorry Sassenach, ye can come out now. It’s just John.” 

At that I made my way over to join them, the tension in the air making me feel stiff and awkward. 

“Claire Beauchamp, meet John Grey.” He said, slipping an arm around my waist for a brief squeeze. “John works for my family.” 

John Grey offered me his hand, smiling warmly. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Beauchamp.” 

“Claire, please.” I smiled back, shaking his hand. 

“I do apologize for barging in at such a late hour.” John looked anxiously at Jamie. “But I’m afraid it’s a matter of some urgency. I tried your mobile but it went straight to voicemail.” 

Jamie had a very strict no phones policy on the nights we spent together. While I very much supported the notion, I had often wondered if perhaps we shouldn’t leave some sort of avenue for people to get in touch with us, in case of emergencies. Jamie remained unconcerned about it though, and tonight both of our mobiles were turned off and hidden in a nightstand drawer. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying I told you so. It didn’t seem like the right time. 

“Well? What is it then?” Jamie asked, a slight edge to his voice. 

John blinked for a second before inclining his head towards me. I was beginning to wonder if I should offer to leave. 

“For Christ’s sake, out w’ it John.” He scoffed, no longer trying to hide his frustration. “I trust Claire completely.” 

My heart fluttered a little at that and I reached out to squeeze Jamie’s hand in acknowledgement. 

“Right.” John nodded at me, before turning back to Jamie. “We just got a hit. Facial recognition.” 

Jamie went suddenly ashen and his whole body tensed. 

“Where?” He choked out. 

“Here. In London.” 

“Mac na galla!” Jamie roared, turning to slam his fist in to the wall. 

I jumped, more than a little taken a back. I had never seen Jamie like this. 

John went on, keeping his tone professional and serious. “She’s been smart. Hiding in crowds, keeping her head down. She slipped up though, looked right up at a surveillance camera near Picadilly.” 

“How long has she been here?” Jamie seethed. 

“Hard to say. But I don’t think she’s been here long.” John sighed, scratching his head. “You haven’t heard from her since April, correct?” 

“Aye.” 

“And it was the same as always? Same three messages?” 

“Aye. Jenny too.” Jamie was pacing now, face contorted, glaring at no one in particular. 

“Same wording? I love you? Call me when you get up and all that?” John asked, whipping out a tiny notebook and flipping back through old notes. 

“Yes, John, Christ! It’s the same bletherin’ nonsense every time, ye ken that.” 

There was a long, charged silence. My mind was working a million miles a minute. Nothing was making sense. The only thing that was clear was that my original assumption, that the message I saw had been from an old flame or something of the like, was clearly very off the mark. 

“Do my parents ken?” Jamie asked, finally breaking the silence. 

“No. Murtaugh thought it best we wait until we knew more.” 

Jamie nodded, clearly agreeing with this course of action. “Jenny needs to be in the loop, though. Always.” 

“Ned Gowan is going to tell her in the morning. We wouldn’t have normally brought this to your attention at such a late hour, but with you currently residing in London, we thought it unwise to wait.” 

Jamie nodded again, his face unreadable. “Aye, thank ye John. Truly. Ye’ll keep me updated?” 

“Of course.” John said turning to go. “And I would advise that you keep a low profile until we know more. Be vigilant.”

“Aye, I ken.” Jamie nodded. 

John opened the door, and turned back briefly to me. “It was nice to meet you Claire.” 

“You too.” I said weakly, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

The sound of the door shutting echoed loudly throughout the flat. I just stood there for a second, feeling a little whiplashed. I finally turned to see Jamie standing at the fireplace, hand gripping the mantle. I watched him for a moment, trying to decide how to approach him. 

I had seen Jamie upset before. We’d had a few small arguments where he’d gotten a bit cranky with me. He’d gotten into a somewhat memorable row with Rupert one night about something to do with their Rugby team. And then there was the time a man in a pub offered to buy me a drink. I’d said no, of course, but Jamie had spent the rest of the night with his arm welded around my wasted, glaring holes into the poor man until he finally left. Yes, I had seen Jamie upset before. But I’d never seen him like this. 

Not able to bare the silence any longer, I took a step towards him. “Are you alright?” 

Jamie’s head snapped up at that as if he’d forgotten I was there. The worry I felt for him must have shown on my face because his eyes softened considerably when he looked at me. 

“I’m sorry mo chridhe.” He said softly. “I didna mean to frighten ye.” 

I shook my head emphatically. “You didn’t. But..” I said, biting my lip. 

“I ken ye have questions.” Jamie said, looking at his hands. 

“I know that I promised you that I wouldn’t make you tell me anything before you were ready. And I don’t want to do that now.” 

I closed the distance between us and took his hands in mine. “I just need to know that you’re okay.” 

He smiled, and brought both of my hands to his lips, kissing each softy. “Aye Sassenach. I’m okay.” 

I hesitated for the briefest of seconds before pressing on. “Did you mean what you told John? Do you trust me completely?” 

His eyes snapped to mine, suddenly incredulous. “Of course I do Claire. It was never about trusting ye. I just….” 

He trailed off, turning away from me. 

“I didna want to frighten ye.” He said softly. 

I came up behind him and put my arms around his waist, resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. 

“You don’t scare me James Fraser.” 

That earned me the faintest of chuckles. I waited for him to say something but he didn’t. 

“Can you tell me who she is?”

“Claire….” 

I tightened my arms around his waist. 

“Please tell me. I can see that you’re struggling and I can’t stand not being able to help you.” 

He sighed and turned in my arms, letting his chin fall to rest on top of my head, shoulders slumping in surrender.

“Her name is Geneva.” 

I steeled myself, preparing. But nothing could have prepared me for what he said next. 

“She killed my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eight coming soon!


	8. Geneva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this! I was in Key West for my Dads’ wedding over the weekend and didn’t have a chance to finish this up until today. Oh and fair warning, this is the part of the story that made total sense in my head but ended up being really hard to put down into writing. If something doesn’t make sense or if I didn’t explain something clearly enough please let me know! All in all, it’s pretty information heavy so buckle up. 
> 
> P.s. - fun fact! this part of the fic is ~loosely~ based on a true story. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

For a long time, all I could hear was the sound of Jamie’s heart beating in his chest. He held me tightly against him, as though I would disappear if he didn’t. My head was tucked under his chin and I heard his throat working as he swallowed. I played his words over and over again in my mind, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

She killed my brother. 

I counted his heartbeats, disconcerted by the rapid tempo. I could’t bear the thought of him being afraid. 

“Jamie…” I finally choked out, my voice hoarse. 

“I’ll tell you everything Sassenach, I promise.” A pause as he swallowed again. “I just… it’s hard for me to talk about.” 

I pulled back to look up into his face, my eyes searching his. I brought my hands up to cup his face, thumbs running lightly over his cheekbones. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. 

“I’ll sit hear and listen for as long as it takes.” I said, trying hard to reassure him.

He nodded and let out a huge breath before leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. 

“The only thing I need to know right now… “ I began cautiously, “Is that you’re okay- that you’re safe.” 

My voice cracked a little on the word safe. Just the thought of Jamie being hurt in anyway was overwhelming. 

“Claire…” He broke off and pulled away from me. My stomach did flip flops as I watched him pad into his kitchen and pour two glasses of whiskey. 

He handed me one. “Will ye sit?” 

I nodded and took the proffered glass wordlessly. I sat next to him on his couch and waited. He didn’t meet my eye at first, only stared down at the glass in his hand. Finally he took a deep breath and drained his whiskey in one huge gulp. 

He turned to me. “Would ye mind?” He said shyly, holding out his hand. “I feel brave when I’m touchin’ ye.” 

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took his hand in mine, squeezing with all my might. 

Finally, he spoke. 

“It all started two years ago. Lallybroch had three horses running a race in Yorkshire. I went down with my Da to watch. After the race, Da was approached by a man wanting to buy one of the horses for his daughter. That’s how we met Geneva.” 

He said her name like it was a filthy disease. I had never seen this side of Jamie before. 

“My first thought was that she was a brat who wore too much makeup. She was all o’er me from the beginning, made it very clear that she was interested.” 

I took a deep swig of whiskey. “And were you interested in her?” 

“Nah. She was just another lass who wanted me, but didna see me.” He said with a look in his eye that broke my heart. 

My breath hitched a little at the pain in his words. He cleared his throat and went on. 

“Did no’ really matter in the end. She came up to Lallybroch a few weeks later to pick up the horse. Willie was there that day and the second he saw her he was head o’er heels.” 

“Did she love him back?” I asked, suddenly curious. 

“I dinna ken. Maybe in her own sick twisted way….” He trailed off before firmly shaking his head. “No. No she isna capable of love.” 

He picked up the whiskey bottle that had been sitting on his coffee table and refilled his glass. 

“Everything happened so fast. They started dating, Willie spent all his weekends at Hellwater- her family’s estate in England. Geneva’s father gave him a job at the family’s investment firm. They were engaged three months later. Geneva’s family made a helluva stramach about it, had it announced in every newspaper in Great Britain. The wedding was insane, totally over the top. But Willie seemed so happy, so I tried to be happy too. For him.” 

“What changed?” I asked, trying to figure out where on earth this story was going. 

“I dinna ken what it was, but something about her changed Willie. He became this entirely different person. Distant, aloof, arrogant. It was like suddenly he was too good for his own family. He’d always called my Mam at least once a week to check in, but after he was married he started calling less and less and less until finally he stopped calling at all. I’ll never forget the look on my Mam’s face that first Hogmany he didna come home. I confronted him about it a few days later and we had a terrible row. Oh god, Claire, the things I said… “ 

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Without hesitation I moved next to him and put my arms around him, bringing him to rest his face in the curve of my shoulder. 

“I told him that I was ashamed of him. That I didna want to see him again.” He said, voice muffled by my flesh. 

He let me hold him for a few more minutes before he broke away. 

“Three days later he vanished. He was in Berlin for a meeting with a new client. He checked into his hotel the night before, but the next morning he never showed. Days went by and…. nothing.” 

He stood up and started pacing around. I sat on the couch, watching him. He wouldn’t meet my eye then and I could tell that we were getting into the worst part of this story. 

“About a week after he disappeared, I woke up to a letter sitting on the pillow next to me. It was from Geneva.” He finally stilled, and took a deep breath before continuing. 

“I dinna remember the wording exactly but it basically said that she was in love with me and that she’d ‘taken care’ of Willie so that we could be together. She asked me to meet her in Stockholm the following Monday at 2pm.” 

Without meaning to I gasped audibly. Jamie didn’t look up, but I saw the way his face hardened into stone. Before I could say anything, he kept going. 

“I showed it to the police immediately, knowing that I would instantly become a suspect. I figured that if it put her in jail, it’d be worth it. But Geneva was already in the wind. I told the police that I had no idea what she was talking about, that we’d never been anything to each other, other than in-laws. The Swedish authorities staked out the place she’d told me to meet her, but she never showed. Other than the note, the police had no real evidence against me, so I was never formally arrested. But it was still a spectacle.” 

He leaned back against his kitchen island with his arms crossed and looked down at his shoes. 

“My Mam said she believed me, but she hasna looked at me the same way since.” He said, so softly I barely heard him. 

“Christ, Jamie, I’m so sorry.” My voice was thick with emotion and suddenly I couldn’t bare not to be touching him. I sprang up from the couch and went to his side running my hands soothingly along his crossed arms. 

“Did they ever find Willie?” 

“No. Technically he’s still considered a missing person. He won’t be presumed dead for another three years.” 

“But you’re sure he’s dead?” 

He swallowed hard and nodded. 

“Aye. No matter what, Willie would never abandon his family. If he were alive, he would ha’ come home by now.” 

“How did you end up in London?” 

“Willie vanished in January of last year. By march, I realized I couldna stay in Scotland. I couldna bare it any longer… the looks that people gave me… the sadness in my Mam’s eyes. I had to get away. So I came here.”

“And Geneva?” 

He shrugged off my hands and stepped away, the tension running through him like an electric current. 

“The day I left, I promised my Mam that I would never stop looking for her. That I would make her pay. That I would…” He compressed his mouth into a thin line in an effort to control his emotions. “That I would make Geneva tell me what she did w’ him. Make her give us something to bury… “ 

He shook his head as though it would dispel his grief before continuing. 

“I hired out an entire private investigation firm. Paid them a fortune, told them to use whatever means necessary.” 

“And?” 

“And nothing at first. Until last November, when the messages came for the first time. The same three messages every time.”

“Can’t stop thinking about the other night. I love you. Call me when you wake up.

It doesn’t have to be this way. 

Please.”

I stared at him, not comprehending. 

“Jenny gets them too. Always at the exact same time as me.” 

“Do you have any idea why she sends the same ones every time?” 

“No’ a clue.” He said, shrugging helplessly. 

“For a while, we kept them to ourselves. We didna have cause to trust anyone. And I wanted to get to her first, before she was arrested and protected by lawyers. So we only told my godfather Murtaugh, our lawyer Ned Gowan, and John Grey.” 

“John Grey? The man that was here earlier?” I asked pointing towards the entryway as if Grey still stood there. 

“Aye. He’s the head investigator at the firm we hired.” 

I nodded, mind racing trying to absorb all of this new information. 

“Anyway, we thought we could find her on our own. But months went by and…. nothing.” He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “Best private investigators in Europe and they couldna find her anywhere. And then in April, when the messages showed up again, we finally went down to Scotland Yard and told the authorities.” 

“And were they any closer to tracking her down?” 

“No. Geneva has nearly unlimited resources and she’s dangerously well connected. She’s only seen or heard from when she wants to be.” 

I was silent for a few minutes, trying to process it all. When I looked back at Jamie he was eyeing me warily, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should keep talking. 

“There’s something else.” I said. It wasn’t a question. 

He nodded grimly. 

“My grandsire-Jacob- was a wealthy man. A very wealthy man. My uncles, Colum and Dougal didna have any bairns so he left most of his fortune in a trust to be split between the three of us- me, Willie and Jenny. I’m sure Geneva assumed that with Willie dead, she’d inherit his share.” 

“But?” I squeaked out, my mouth suddenly dry. 

“But it doesna work like that. I won’t bore ye w’ all the legal details but the jist of it is, that in order for Geneva to see a dime out of that trust, Jenny and I have to be out of the picture too.” 

None of this was making sense. 

“I thought you said her family was wealthy? Why would she need the trust?” I asked. 

“I said her family was old money.” Jamie answered wryly. “When old money runs out, people get desperate.” 

I was grasping for straws, anything that would quell the sense of terror rising in my chest. 

“But then why leave the note? Surely she couldn’t have expected to inherit from the trust after confessing to Willie’s murder.” 

“She didna expect me to go to the police w’ it.” He shrugged. “You can’t imagine how arrogant the woman is Sassenach. I’m sure she thought I’d do as she said and come to meet her in Stockholm, where she’d promptly do away w’ me.”

His eyebrows shot up a bit, as though something had suddenly occurred to him. 

“I suppose that’s why we didna hear a thing from her for so long. She had to come up w’ a plan B.” 

“And that’s why she’s here.” I said, feeling like I could be knocked over with a feather. “In London.” 

“It is.” He said, suddenly steeling himself. “And that’s why I canna see ye anymore Claire. It’s no’ safe.” 

He was looking straight at me, face unreadable. 

“What?” The notion was so ridiculous I had to remind myself not to laugh. 

Jamie squared his shoulders as if preparing for battle. 

“The truth is I shouldna have pursued ye all those months ago. I kent I was no good for ye.” 

“Jamie-“ 

“Ye should go Claire.” His face was stone and he stood with his arms crossed like iron bars. 

I marched over to him and got right up in his face. 

“No.” I stated firmly. 

He jumped back, thrown off by my response. “What do ye mean no?” 

“I mean no. I am not going anywhere.” 

“But-“ 

I put a hand to his mouth silencing him. 

“Look I won’t pretend that this… situation… isn’t a little daunting. But I will not leave you.” 

He shook my hand off his mouth and stepped back, further away from me. 

“Ye cannot stay w’ me Sassenach.” He said, using the same tone one might use with a child. 

The hero act was getting old and I was getting angry. 

“Why the hell not? You said you trusted me, was that a lie?”

“For christ’s sake woman it’s no’ about trustin ye!” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “I trust ye w’ my life and ye ken that.” 

“Well then why? Why are you trying to push me away?” I held my ground, refusing to back down. 

“Because I canna let this ruin yer life. Geneva being back only means that trouble is coming and I willna let ye get caught up in it. Do ye no’ realize how dangerous she is?” 

“You stubborn bloody scot!” I was verging on screaming at him at this point. “How could you be so selfish?” 

“Selfish?” He roared back, astonished. 

“Yes, selfish! What- do you think that I’m just going to leave you and go about my life as if I’d never met you? What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?” I demanded in a shaky voice. 

Even mentioning that possibility out loud was too much. I made no move to stop the tears that streamed down my face. 

His cold resolve finally began to crack. “Please dinna cry, mo cridhe. I canna bear it.” 

He stood apart from me, arms hanging at his side, looking desperate. I took my chance and slowly closed the distance between us. I leaned forward and rested my head on his chest. 

“I can’t leave you.” I said softly, barely above a whisper. 

His arms stayed at his sides, his trembling hands clenched into fists. 

“Claire…” He said, sounding strangled. 

There was only one thing I could say to him understand and I was terrified. But I could do it. In that moment I knew that I could and would do anything for him. I took a deep breath and put my arms around his neck. I felt brave when I touched him too. 

I pressed my lips to his ear. “I love you.” 

His breath hitched and his hands came up on my shoulders as he held me away far enough to look into my eyes. His own eyes were wide with shock and beginning to well with tears. 

“Ye do?” He finally choked out. 

I made a sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I do.” 

I wiped away the single tear that slipped down his cheek. 

“And I know it’s been an emotional night and you probably aren’t ready to say it back but-“ 

Before I could finish he crushed his lips to mine, kissing me until I had no breath. When we finally broke a part, he pressed his forehead to mine. 

“I love you too.” 

I couldn’t stop the slow, shy smile that spread across my face. “Yeah?”

“Aye.”

Sometime later, we lay nestled together in his bed. Jamie snaked his arms around my waist and laid his head on my chest. 

“Will ye tell me again, Sassenach?” His voice was full of wonderment. 

“I love you James Fraser.” 

I felt the curve of his smile against my neck and then heard his slow even breaths as he drifted off to sleep. There were only a few hours left until dawn and I spent all of them with my arms wrapped tightly around Jamie, eyes trained on the bedroom door as though I were daring Geneva or anyone else to come in and take him from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back soon for Chapter Nine!


	9. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait!!

Chapter Nine: Fear

Thursday, October 17, 2019

Three weeks after the first trial, Patient X began his first round of physical therapy. Early results were promising but…

I threw the medical journal aside in frustration and looked at my phone for what felt like the fifth time in as many minutes.

8:41. No new messages. I gingerly pinched the bridge of my nose and tried not to panic. I didn’t want to be this person.

The two months since Jamie’s revelation, had been a constant whirlwind. We were committed to one another in a way that went beyond words, and after we’d affirmed that, we began the chaotic, wonderful dance of merging our separate lives into one. He’d taken me home to Lallybroch, and given me the gift of his family. The first time I sat around the table with them for Sunday dinner, I’d had to fight to keep the tears at bay. Looking around at their smiling faces, I suddenly realized what a heavy burden it was, to be so alone in the world. The relief I felt at being finally rid of it, was beyond words.

When he asked me to move into his flat with him, I had agreed without question. I was more than surprised at the lack of doubt. I was not concerned by the relative newness of our relationship nor by the demanding nature of our jobs. No matter what we had to face, Jamie would be right there with me, and he made sure I knew it. Life, as it was, didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

And now, more than ever, I was positively petrified by the mere thought of something happening to him. I hated the idea of this woman hiding somewhere in the crowds of London, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. I knew it wasn’t rational. Jamie was a grown man and more than capable of defending himself. But I couldn’t help it.

8:42. I sat my phone down decidedly away from me. I was being ridiculous. It wasn’t unusual for Jamie to work late. It was, however, unusual for him to not answer any of my texts or calls. I tried to rationalize. It had been a busy week at Jamie’s firm. They had taken on a new client and Jamie was the lead associate in charge of the case.

I resolutely looked away from my phone, resisting the urge to check again. I picked up the medical journal and tried to read again.

Three weeks after the first trial, Patient X began his first round of physical therapy. Early results were promising but…

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” I yelled out to an empty flat as a I threw the journal on the floor. I sprung up from my spot on the couch and began to pace. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at the clock on the wall. 8:47. I shook my head trying to clear my frantic brain. A shower. I needed a shower. I stomped my way to the bedroom, grumbling under my breath. I tried to find comfy clothes in the chaos of boxes and suitcases that littered the bedroom. I was still in the process of moving into Jamie’s flat. We were supposed to spend the weekend finally getting organized.

A few minutes later when I was standing in the shower, I heard his voice. It was muffled by the sound of the rushing water, and I prayed I wasn’t imagining it. Next came the sound of the shower door sliding open. I sighed when I felt his touch, palms curving around my hips as he stood behind me.

“Mind if I join ye?” He whispered huskily, dropping his head to press a kiss to my shoulder.

The first thing I felt at his touch was an overwhelming surge of relief. The second, a pang of downright irritation. Would it have killed him to call?

I went stiff and he noticed. His hands came up to lightly rest on my shoulders, and he pressed his thumbs into the knots at the base of my neck. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from surrendering to him with an ecstatic moan.

I stepped forward away from his touch, reaching for the bottle of body wash from the hanging shower caddy.

“Is something wrong?” He ventured cautiously, this time giving me a little bit of physical space.

“Why didn’t you call?” I asked through gritted teeth, sounding desperate and needy.

He was quiet for a long while. I stood facing away from him, letting hot water cascade down over my head. Finally, he brought his hands to my shoulders again, turning me gently to face him.

I reluctantly lifted my eyes to meet his, his face displaying a disarming mixture of sorrow, contrition, and unutterable tenderness. His hands came up to cup my face.

“I’m sorry, Claire. I should have let ye know I’d be late.” He pressed a featherlight kiss to my forehead. “That was verra careless of me.”

I was powerless against the pull of his limpid blue eyes, searching mine in earnest.

“Forgive me?”

I leaned into his arms, heaving a great sigh of surrender, resting my forehead against the sturdy column of his neck.

“Forgiven.” I whispered.

We stood like that for a little while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the steaming water pouring down around us.

Sometime later, I sat on the edge of the bed in an oversized t shirt and stretchy pants, as I watched Jamie expertly blow dry his hair, eyes focused on the mirror, hands moving in a fluid, practiced rhythm.

The corner of my mouth curled up in a reluctant smirk. He caught me looking at him in the mirror, and quirked an eyebrow at me in silent question.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked loudly over the roar of the hair dryer.

I waited until he cut the appliance off to respond. “You spend more time on your hair in one day than I do in a month.”

He laughed, flipping the bathroom light off, unconsciously running a hand through his newly dried auburn locks. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

“Well, now, we can’t all be so blessed with natural perfection in that department, can we my curly wig?” He chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

I did my best to smile back at him, but knew I couldn’t keep the lingering anxiety from showing through my glass face. His own face fell, almost imperceptibly in response.

We would need to have a talk. That much was clear. But I didn’t feel equal to it on an empty stomach.

“Dinner’s waiting in the oven.” I said, squeezing his hand in an attempt to lighten the mood.

We kept the conversation light and neutral as we shared a dinner of grilled chicken and veg. We talked about my work at the hospital, his work at an up and coming trade law firm. We shared our theories as to the cause of the recent rift in Geillis and Rupert’s relationship and our mutual desire to avoid being dragged into the drama.

After we’d finished, I got a warm feeling deep down in my chest as I watched him rinse and load the dishes. It was part of our little routine. When he cooked, I cleaned up. When I cooked, he cleaned up. Granted, the system was slightly skewed with Jamie doing most of the cooking, and I most of the cleaning, but it was a system nonetheless. A rhythm. A routine. There was something so deliciously intimate about it that made me giddy.

Not for the first time since the beginning of our relationship, I found myself tracing the hard, sturdy lines of his back with my eyes, wondering what on earth I’d done to deserve him.

It wasn’t just the physical attraction that drew me to him, though God knows that was more than enough. With each passing day I found myself more and more enamored with the least physical parts of him; the parts that made him Jamie. My Jamie.

I thought of how he called his mother every Sunday, without fail, and spoke to her for a half an hour at minimum. How he always made a point to check in on the elderly gentleman who lived alone down the hall. How he left notes for me to find, in the pockets of my lab coat or sometimes in my work bag. How he treated me like a human being, as an equal, with respect and total honesty, and didn’t expect any praise or recognition for it.

By the time he started the dishwasher, I was feeling very ashamed of the way I’d acted earlier. This was his ordeal. Not mine. I didn’t need to add to his burden by being so …. so…. so bloody needy. And yet, I couldn’t help it. I could not bear the thought of losing him. Could not.

I suddenly realized that this was the first time since he’d told me about Geneva that I’d fully faced the true reality of the danger she posed. Somewhere in the flurry of life, I’d managed to ignore it. But in those hours of waiting for him to call, to come home, to let me know somehow that he was alright, the all consuming fear took its place center stage. I could no longer ignore it. It was choking me, sitting like a heavy stone on my chest.

‘I am sorry Sassenach.” He offered, taking my attention from my whirling thoughts. He dried his hands on a dish towel before tossing it aside. We stood facing each other from either side of the kitchen island.

I sighed, rubbing my temples lightly. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

“Aye. It is.” He said. “I shouldha been more considerate.”

“Jamie..”

“Though in my defense..” He said, putting his hands up, lips quirking slightly. “I did assume ye’d figure out easily enough what I was up to.”

I tilted my head to one side. “And how exactly would I deduce such a thing?”

“Well let’s see.” He teased, walking around the island, coming to stand between my legs as I sat on the barstool. “Today is the 17th of October is it no’?”

I nodded, not actually knowing what the exact date was, but assuming that he was in the ballpark.

“And the most important person in my life happens to be celebrating a birthday in a few days…” He hinted, running his hands lightly up the length of my thighs.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” I laughed, realization dawning. “It took you that long to buy me a birthday present?”

Jamie’s hands had worked their way up under my shirt, and were now running along the bare skin just above the waistband of my yoga pants.

“You’re not the easiest lassie to buy for, Sassenach. It takes more than a quick trip to Harrod’s to keep you on your toes.”

I grunted my acknowledgement and appreciation, trying to latch onto his cheery mood. But I couldn’t fight the niggling seed of anxiety, settled deep in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down and poisoning the air around us.

Jamie lowered his forehead to rest lightly against mine, clearly abandoning any attempt to lighten the mood.

“Ye dinna have to be afraid mo chridhe.” He said huskily. “She willna harm ye. Not while there is breath in my body. I swear it.”

Tears were stinging in my eyes as I brought my hands up to trace the bold, strong lines of his face. I took a deep, shuddering breath.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” I whispered.

He opened his mouth to respond, but I put a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“Jamie… “ I began, swallowing a lump in my throat. Searching for words. He watched me, waiting patiently. “I … I can’t lose you.”

He made a small, incoherent sound, somewhere deep in his throat before his arms came around me, pulling me tight against his chest. He held me for a while, letting me breath in the scent of him.

“That morning when I found her note… the moment I realized that Willie was truly gone….” I saw his throat working as he swallowed. “I thought to myself, ‘Well that’s it lad. Ye’ll never be happy again. No’ really.’”

I let the tears slip freely down my face as I waited for him to continue. He rested his chin on top of my head, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

“I was a ghost.” He said quietly. “We were so alike, Willie and me. My own family couldna even look at me w’out seeing him. The place I called home all my life became my own personal hell. I couldna escape it. And so I left. I made my way all the way to the other end of this godforsaken island and I still couldna shake it. I couldna feel safe anywhere. I couldna outrun the demons. I wasna living, Claire. I was just…. existing. Wandering around, looking for peace.”

I wept in earnest now, my ribs creaking with the effort not to shake with it. My hands trembled, fisted tight into the front of his shirt.

“I was in such a bad place. Everything was so gray. So cold.” He took a deep breath, exhaling with a breathy chuckle. “I’ll never be able to repay Rupert for dragging me into that blasted rugby league. And I’ll never forget that one rainy Sunday when I looked up at those bleachers and saw the world come alive around me.”

My breath hitched and his arms tightened around me, his thumbs stroking tenderly along my spine.

“Ye gave me the world back, Sassenach.” His voice was low, laced with his own tears. “The moment ye touched me… Christ, it was like I could finally breathe again. And when I stood there, in the rain, watching you leave that day… I could feel it all washing away. All the pain, the shame, the bloody agony of it all.”

I wasn’t sure I could take much more. He was breaking my heart and putting it back together again with every word he spoke.

“Jamie, I-”

“Ye give me so much joy, Claire.” He said, pulling back to cup my face in his hands.

“Ye make me feel loved and” - his voice cracked painfully - “safe, and… ” he looked deep into my eyes, using his thumbs to wipe my tears away one by one.

“And, happy to be alive.” He said with feeling. “Geneva has taken so much from me. I willna let her take this. I dinna ken what it is between us… but I ken for sure I canna live without it.”

“Neither can I.” I all but sobbed, the emotion in my voice making the words almost unintelligible. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to start all.. I didn’t mean to upset… I just… I- god Jamie- I just love you so much and-”

He silenced me with a long, burning kiss that had my toes curling in my socks despite myself.

“And I love you, mo nighean donn.” He said, pulling back, chest heaving. “This life we’ve found together is a gift. We’ll no waste another second of it on fear, aye?”

I nodded in earnest, wanting so badly to mean it. “Aye.”

I couldn’t say how long we sat there, not speaking, just holding one another, foreheads pressed together, listening to each other’s breaths.

“This might no’ be the right time…” He began cautiously, some time later. “But Jenny rang me earlier, asking what ye were planning to wear to dinner on Saturday night. I didna ken what to tell her.”

I pulled back, stunned, and just stared at him for a second. Another second later we were both doubled over in hysterics, overwhelmed by that singular type of breathless laughter that comes with great emotional release.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” I gasped out.

Jamie had planned a grand dinner for Saturday night, in honor of my birthday. Jenny and Ian were using the occasion as an excuse for a weekend holiday in London and would be in attendance, along with the other usual suspects.

I looked up at Jamie, taking in his beautiful face, ocean blue eyes sparkling with laughter, tears still wet on his cheeks.

“Good God.” I choked out, scraping my nails along the line of his jaw. “I do love you.”

“And I, you, my Sassenach.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose. “Thank ye for sticking around.”

I snorted. “It will take a good deal more than a homicidal debutante to get rid of me James Fraser.”

******

Saturday, October 19th, 2019

I rose early that morning, stomping sleepily to the hospital in time for my 8-4 shift. The hours passed slowly without any particular excitement. I watched the hours tick by, hoping I would be able to make it home in time to take a nap before dinner.

At 3:55 I was in the lounge, collecting my things when my pager vibrated against my hip. I groaned, wondering if I could just ignore it. Deciding I should at least go check in, I put my belongings back in my locker and trudged my way down to the main lobby.

I did my best to stifle a yawn as I approached the administration desk.

“You paged me?”

“Sorry Dr. B.” Elias Pound, the current shift administrator, giving me a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s the end of your shift, but a young woman checked herself in for an eval. She’s insisting absolutely to be seen by you, and no one else.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion, taking the clipboard Elias handed me. “A former patient of mine?”

“Not according to our records.” He shrugged, biting his lip, considering. “She seemed… nervous to me. Fidgety. I’m almost positive she’s using a fake name. We’ve got her in exam room 9.” 

I peered down at the chart in my hand. Mary Hawkins. 26. Symptoms: frequent vomiting, fatigue, weight loss, trouble sleeping, cramping and frequent stabbing pains in the lower abdomen. I put the puzzle together in my mind immediately. It was clear enough to me that the woman was pregnant. That would certainly explain the nerves. The stomach pain was somewhat concerning, but nothing that a quick referral to obstetrics couldn’t fix.

“Well, I suppose I’d better take this. It shouldn’t take long.” I said glancing at my watch. “Could you get an intern to cover the paperwork? I hate to ask, but I’ve got these dinner reservations-”

Elias smiled warmly and put a hand up to stop me. “Consider it done, Dr. B!”

Having already diagnosed my new patient, I strolled somewhat absentmindedly down the shiny white corridor, my thoughts mostly consumed with the evening ahead. Should I be brave and wear heels? Should I be bold and try to pull of that new red lipstick Geillis had given me as an early present? Should I be downright fearless and wear the lacy black thong with matching garter that I had purchased the week before? I was distracted, imagining Jamie’s reaction to this unholy trinity, and barely noticed the timid voice that responded to my light tap on the door of exam room 9.

I was all business, not even sparing the poor girl a glance as I automatically reached for my stethoscope.

“Hello Ms. Hawkins, I’m Dr. Bea-” The woman put a hand on my arm, stilling me, and stopping my words.

I looked up into a pale gaunt face, lined heavily with anxiety. Her hair might have been beautiful once, a deep chestnut brown that now hung lifeless about her cheeks. A pair of lifeless hazel eyes silently pleading with me, practically eclipsed by the shadows of sleeplessness beneath them.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at work, Dr. Beauchamp.” She said in a quiet, posh english accent that indicated upper class background. “But I didn’t see that I had any other choice.”

I stared at her, not comprehending. “Ms. Hawkins, what-?”

“My name,” She said, cutting me off again. “Is Isobel Dunsany.”

My blood went cold in my veins. Clearly, she could see the flash of recognition and horror in my eyes.

“I believe you’re acquainted with my sister?”


	10. Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient with me with this one!! xoxoxoxo

Saturday October 19th, 2019 

I walked home in a daze, barely noticing the sharp chill of the London air. To say that I was thrown off by Isobel’s sudden appearance would be a massive understatement. By the time i made it back to the flat, my head was still spinning. I clambored through the door like a zombie, eyes unfocused, my mind still trapped at the hospital in exam room nine. 

For a long time, I just stood there in the entryway feeling as though I’d been hit by a bus. I made no move to relieve myself of my coat or work bag as I stood there replaying the frenzied bits of our brief conversation over again in my mind. 

 

“I don’t have much time.” She explained, eyes darting about the corners of the room as though someone were watching them. “But you should know I’m not here to cause trouble for you. Or for Jamie.” 

My body tensed automatically at mention of Jamie’s name. “Then why are you here?” 

“To warn you.” 

 

“Sassenach?” 

I blinked dumbly for a minute, not making sense of the sound of Jamie’s cheerful voice. 

“Care to come in and stay for a bit?” He asked, laughing at the sight of me, still in my coat and work clothes. 

He slipped my work bag off of my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“Oh!” I started, the feeling of his lips on my skin bringing me to my senses like an electric shock. “Sorry- long day. I think I’m just a little out of it.” 

“Well we canna have that now can we?” He gently pulled me in from the entryway easing the coat off of my shoulders. “I mean to make the evening one to remember, mo nighean donn.” 

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, as he drew me into his arms, hands at the small of my back, pressing me against him. 

“Is that right?” I challenged, happy to let his playful mood distract me for the time being. “Last time I checked, the Capital Club was much too posh for that sort’ve display.” 

He snorted, lowering his face until his lips hovered just barely above mine. “Ye can sleep through dinner for all I care Sassenach. But afterwards…” He ran his tongue lightly along my lower lip. “I’m afraid I’ll be requiring yer full attention.”   
He swallowed my answering smile, pulling into a kiss that made my toes curl in my shoes. 

“Oh.” I said when we finally broke apart, more than a little breathless. 

“Aye.” He grinned down at me, eyes glowing with mischief and love. “We’ve got a while yet before we need to start getting ready. Go lie down for a bit Sassenach.” 

I nodded my assent and practically floated into the bedroom, still glowing from his attentions. It wasn’t until I’d stripped down to my underwear and slipped under the sheets that remembered the decision I still had yet to make. What do I tell Jamie? 

 

She’d grabbed me by the shoulders with a shockingly firm grip, eyes boring into mine. 

“Geneva is sick. She needs help. My family flat out refuses to acknowledge it. They’re helping her hide somewhere in the country, but I don’t know where.” 

I sat still as stone, heart pounding out of my chest, wishing she’d cut to the chase. 

“But recently…. Well, she’s gotten so much worse. I’ve convinced them to send her to a treatment center in America. Their plan is to sneak her out of the country sometime next week.”

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because Jamie needs to stop looking for her. If he gets too close, my father will get spooked and he won’t send her. The longer she stays here, the more she’ll dig into this fantasy- this obsession.” 

“With Jamie?”

“Not so much with Jamie- but with what he represents.” 

 

Rest evaded me as a lay in bed, reliving that chilling exchange. My first instinct had of course been to alert law enforcement of Geneva’s location. However, I quickly discarded that course as a viable option when I remembered the Dunsany’s fast wealth of power and influence. Even if I managed to convince Scotland Yard to investigate Isobel’s claim, the Dunsany’s would word of it with plenty of time to hide Geneva someplace else. 

I wasn’t all that sure that I should say anything to Jamie. He’d been in such high spirits lately and it felt rather senseless to burden him once more with the great storm cloud of heartbreak and tragedy. I hadn’t heard Jamie so much as mention John Grey or the investigation, and he hadn’t mentioned Geneva in months- save during our discussion the other night. And if Isobel told me the truth, she’d be out of the country again within the week. 

And what would he do if I did tell him? Jamie, for the most part, was a highly logical man. Given to consider his options carefully before deciding on a course of action. However, Jamie also had a very notable passionate streak, one that inspired a highly reactive nature when those passions were ignited. I pictured him bursting through the doors of the Dunsany’s home, wild-eyed and fierce as a highland warrior, blind and deaf to reason, logic, and everything else other than the need to avenge his brother’s death. And that surely would not do. 

I could hear Jamie moving about in the living room, whistling as he set about his task, whatever it was. He’d been looking forward to this evening so much, had put so much thought into it. I couldn’t bear to spoil his excitement with this. Surely it could keep until tomorrow. Besides, with his sister in town… 

I sat bolt right up in bed, suddenly inspired. Jenny! Of course! In the time I had known the Fraser siblings I had deduced one thing. While they were both equally stubborn, Jenny was more inclined towards logic when faced with danger, while Jamie was much more likely to act first, ask questions later. I would find an excuse to talk to Jenny alone, somehow, some time before she returned to Scotland with Ian. But for tonight… 

“Rise and shine, Sassenach!” Jamie’s voice danced throughout the walls of the flat, practically dripping with his excitement. “Time to get ready!” 

I couldn’t keep the grin from my face, as I threw the covers back and slipped out of bed. The Dunsany’s and their drama would have to wait. 

*** 

Jamie looked positively rackish in an immaculately pressed three piece suit, his ruddy locks perfectly coiffed - as always - the smile on his face wide and sweet. 

“Ye look beautiful Sassenach.” He said softly as I emerged from the bedroom. 

I blushed, smoothing the soft fabric of my black suede dress. It was new, something I’d purchased on impulse the week before during a rare shopping trip with Geillis. It was short, hitting me mid thigh, and off the shoulder, showing off the angles of my collar bone, sleeves coming to just at my elbows. I was wearing my hair down - the way Jamie liked it best- curls combed and held in place by a toxic amount of hair spray. 

I smiled at him as my hands came up to straighten his thin black tie. “I was just going to say the same thing about you.” I indulged a little, letting my hands run slowly and heavily down the taut lines of his torso before dropping them to my sides. 

He arched a brow at my not so subtle roaming before cocking his head towards the door. 

“Shall we Sassenach?” 

“Lead the way.” 

***   
I was overcome with nostalgia as we strolled arm in arm into the lobby of Capital Plaza, smiling to myself at the memory of how I’d walked beside him into this very lobby all those months ago, staring up at him doe eyed, hanging on every word. Already hooked, already wanting, already hopelessly, desperately, in love. 

I remembered that night - the night of Rupert’s birthday party - with a mix of overwhelming emotion. Joy, lust and yearning; the memory of our first joining. Hurt, fear, and despair; the misunderstanding that had almost kept us from one another, forever. 

When Jamie called the lift, I nudged him playfully in the side. “Let’s hope it’s not as crowded as last time,hmm?” 

His ears turned pink and his eyes raging with emotions that I had not expected. “Aye. Let’s hope.” 

I swallowed, hard, only dimly hearing the soft ‘ping!’ that announced the lifts arrival. With a soft hand pressed firm at the small of my back, he led me forward. 

We stood silently side by side as the life slowly ascended, Jamie holding my hand, rubbing soft circles on my palm with his thumb. Suddenly, just as we reached the fifteenth floor, we came to an abrupt screeching halt. 

“Wha-?” I sputtered, lurching forward, Jamie’s grip the only thing that kept me from tumbling to the ground. “What happened?” 

I reached out and pressed the button for the 30th floor several times in a rapid succession, all to no avail. “Christ! I think the blasted thing’s broken down.” 

“I dinna think so Sassenach.” The calm, low tone of his voice causing me to whip back around to face him. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, brows furrowed as he reached out a hand and gently drew me to him. 

“I thought maybe we could stop here and speak for a bit. If ye dinna mind.” He held our hands clasped between us, smiling at me with a tenderness that broke my heart in two. 

“Jamie-what are you-?” 

“I’ll never forget the first time I saw ye.” He began, eyes running over me, burning my skin with the intensity of his gaze. “It was the first day of classes for the term. Rainin’ of course. I was just walking into the biology building, when this great blur of dripping wet curls and chaos came roaring past me, bumping into me, almost knocking me off my feet.” 

I was opening my mouth to say something indignant when he continued. “I remember ye were wearin’ these wee white sneakers that squeaked on the floor as ye ran past. Only turning back to extend me the most cursory o’ apologies before ye were on yer way again.” His eyes sparkled with the memory. 

“There are moments, ye ken, in life that imprint themselves on ye forever. Moments ye share w’ the people ye love.” He explained, voice husky. “I’ve moments like that with Jenny and Ian, My parents… and o’ course Willie.” He swallowed hard. “And that moment with you, my Sassenach… for as long as I live I will always be able to recall the way yer curls stuck to yer forehead, wet from the rain, yer skin so bonny and flushed and perfect.” 

“Jamie-” I croaked. 

“It was raining, when I found you again, aye?” He went on, almost conversational. “Another moment I’ll carry with me forever. The day that the beautiful girl from University Biology showed up at my rugby game. That was the first time I felt yer hands on me, when ye set my shoulder- and Christ, Sassenach-” he groaned softly at the memory “-it was all I could do not to take ye, right then and there on the rugby pitch.

I laughed loudly at that, though my eyes were beginning to blur heavily with tears. He ran a feather light hand down the side of my face. “And there was that time at the hospital, when I came for my wee check up, and ye told me about Boston and agreed to let me into yer life as a friend. I was a goner already, to be sure, but when ye stopped me as I left that day, and asked me to be patient w’ ye-” 

“If memory serves me correct.” I interrupted, doing my best to sound prim, but failing miserably, my voice husky with emotion. “I told you to be patient with your shoulder. To give it time to heal.” 

He smiled, knowing as well as I did just what I had meant when I’d said farewell to him that day. “Well, whatever ye said, Sassenach, ye looked so open and vulnerable I thought surely my heart would break on the spot w’ lovin’ you.” 

The tears were falling in earnest now as he gently raised my hands to his lips, kissing each of my palms, before bringing them to rest on this chest. 

“Out of all the moments we’ve shared since then, mo chridhe, this one-” he raised his hand, gesturing to the small corner of the lift, “-when we stood in that corner, pressed up together, and I held ye in my arms for the first time…” 

He took a deep shuddering breath as he placed his hands on my waist, drawing me even closer. “That was when I realized that I wanted to live forever. When I realized that no heaven or paradise that any God could create, could ever possibly compare to life on earth with you.” 

I brought a hand up to clap over my mouth, as his words struck me in the very center of my chest, robbing me of breath. I was still reeling when I realized that he was dropping to one knee before me. I stared down at him, chest heaving, barely even seeing him through the swimming tears. 

He held my hands in his. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp-” he took a deep, ragged breath “- will ye marry me?” 

I had barely croaked out my strangled and emphatic - “yes!” - when he was on his feet again, sweeping me up in his arms. My feet dangled several feet off the floor as I crushed my lips to his, arms thrown tight about his neck. 

“Say it again, Sassenach.” He whispered against my mouth, breathing heavy.

I reverently traced the lines of his beautiful face, looking down at him for a long minute, letting him see the ecstatic, life altering love I felt for him, shining in my eyes. “Yes, I will marry you, Jamie Fraser.” 

He smiled hugely, kissing me again, slowly, thoroughly, as he sat me back on my feet. I made a small, breathless sound when he abruptly broke away, 

“Christ!” He exclaimed, fumbling at his pockets. “I almost forgot!” 

He produced a tiny red velvet box, and delicately plucked out the ring, slipping it easily on my finger as though it was meant to be there. 

It was exquisite. A modest, yet stunning solitaire diamond set on a simple thin silver band, encrusted with an intricate pattern of much smaller diamonds and intermittent sapphires. It was perfect. Beautiful and, somehow… familiar. 

“Wait…” I said, looking closer. “Is this….? 

“Yer mother’s?” My eyes snapped back up to his, wide and streaming. “Aye.” 

“But… but…” I sputtered, disbelieving. “How…?” 

“Lamb.” Jamie explained, smiling fondly. “I went to him, ya ken, when he was in town last month, after I decided to propose. Not to ask for permission, mind-” He added, eyeing me pointedly, no doubt to stave off a rebuke via my well established feminist streak,“-but for his blessing. It seemed the proper thing to do.” He shrugged. 

“Anyway, he asked me then if I would consider giving ye yer mother’s ring.” He smiled softly. “He said it would mean a lot to him. And I couldna have been more honored to grant his request.” He added, raising my hands to his lips, kissing the ring softly. 

“That’s why I was so late the other night ye ken.” He explained, chuckling a little. “Lamb snuck into town early to meet w’ me- to give me the ring.” 

I blushed a little, thinking of the decidedly less than warm greeting I had given him upon his return home to me that night. 

“We had a dram or two, got to talkin’ about the future and the like, ye ken?” He dropped his hands to my waist and pulled me close. “And of course about you. How wonderful ye are. How proud ye make both of us.” He paused to bending his head drop a kiss on my neck. “He had a lot of questions too.” 

“Questions? What kind of questions?” I laughed, running my palm along the scruff at his jaw. 

“Och just this and that. Where we would live, when we would marry, how many bairns we would have... Ye should’ve seen him, Sassenach, gettin’ all red faced and misty eyed, thinkin’ of his future wee nieces and nephews…” Jamie’s fond smile, turned into a look of alarmed contrition as he hastily amended- “That is- I mean-if we- I dinna mean to pressure-” 

His words were cut off when I flung myself into his arms, sending us tumbling hard against the back wall of the lift as I attached my mouth to his, my wild, unending love for this man, igniting a passion in me, the likes of which I’d never felt before. 

“Of course I want your babies Jamie.” I murmured against his lips, pulling back roughly to look up at him. “I’m going to be your wife.” 

His face went rigid and his eyes darkened with a salaciousness that made me shiver. He spun us around and slammed me hard against the wall, teeth fixed to the curve of my neck, hands already working at my dress, rucking it up roughly around my waist. I barely noticed him lowering my underwear down my legs, until he tapped impatiently at my ankles, urging me to step out of them, before he tossed them carelessly to the side. 

“What- Really?” I half laughed, half groaned, grappling at his shoulders, trying to catch my breath. “Here?” 

“Aye.” He growled, hands busy at his belt and fly. “I must.” 

He lifted me up, braced against the wall, wrapping my legs high around his waist. With one ruthless thrust, he was deep inside, my mouth biting into the fabric of his coat at his shoulder. 

I dimly thought that Jamie was right. About moments. I found myself pleased with the knowledge that I would always have this memory. Jamie’s hips thundering powerfully against me, his breath hot in my ear as he whispered the most delicious profanities. 

“Say it again, Sassenach!” He demanded, snarling with frantic need. 

“I’m-Jamie-” I stammered out, gasping as he reached deeper and deeper inside of me. 

“Say it!” He pressed, digging his teeth into the tender skin just behind me ear. 

“Ah! Your wife- I’m- g-going to be your wife!” I moaned softly at first, and then much louder as Jamie went wild, pumping frantically, grunting and growling like a feral animal. He wrapped a fist in my hair and tugged hard to one side, putting his mouth to my exposed neck and sucking hard. I shook violently as I came apart around him, back arching and muscles spasming with the fury of release. My limbs flailed about, weak and boneless, as Jamie thrust again, and again, and once more, before stilling and shuddering inside me. 

He rested against me, laying his forehead on my shoulder and I ran a hand lightly down his back as we stood there, pressed together, breathing hard. 

“Are you sure we can’t just skip dinner and go straight home?” I panted wistfully, not yet willing to let the outside world intrude on this new, and joyous connection. 

Jamie chuckled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before pulling away. “As anxious as I am for some time alone w’ ye…” He began pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I dinna think our guests would appreciate it if we stood them up.” 

I started at that, having completely forgotten about dinner. 

“Besides,” He reasoned, grabbing my hand, and tracing the curve of my ring with his thumb. “We’ve an announcement to make.”


	11. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little long!! Decided to add a little extra in the beginning for those concerned about the lift security cameras! 😅😘 I hope you all enjoy! 💕

Saturday, October 19th, 2019

As embarrassing and cliche as it was, I simply could not take my eyes off of Jamie. After we’d sufficiently recollected ourselves following our world shaking post engagement tryst- clothes straightened, Jamie’s hair smoothed back into place, knickers collected from the floor and stowed away in Jamie’s coat pocket- much to my chagrin- Jamie had produced a tiny key. He twisted it in the matching eyelet on the lift control panel, and we were off again, resuming our journey to the the thirtieth floor.

“It’s nice to have connections, Sassenach.” He’d shrugged with a smug sort of smirk, when I quirked a brow at him in question.

Even now with our family and friends surrounding us, showering us with love and congratulations as we sat at a huge round table in a private room at the posh restaurant, my eyes were drawn to Jamie as though by some sort of inescapable magnetic force. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I chastised myself, for surely an accomplished, independent woman such as myself - and a Doctor forbye- could manage to make it through one dinner without drooling over Jamie like a lovesick teenager.

Jamie was doing nothing whatever to help alleviate my current affliction. His hand resting heavy on my thigh under the table- occasionally reaching out to toy with cool silver of my ring where it curved around my finger. Each touch, each gentle brush was suddenly electric with the possibility of the future we would share together.

“I must say wee fox, ‘twas a peculiar choice.” Geillis chimed in, eyes glinting over the top of her wine glass. “Of all the ideal romantic locations I’d think a lad would fancy to drop a knee, a lift isn’t really the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Maybe no’.” Jamie laughed good naturedly. “Let’s just say it was a matter of sentimentality.” He smirked at me discreetly, running a hand up my thigh to give my knee a gentle squeeze.

“Well now that I think of it,” Jenny offered, “A lift is a fine place for a proposal. It’s a wonderful thing to have such an important moment on tape. A way to preserve it forever, ye ken?”

Jamie and I both went rigid in our seats and I dimly registered the sound of him swallowing hard.

“What d’ya mean, have it on tape?” Jamie asked in a slow, deliberate voice.

“The security cameras, of course.” Jenny blinked back. “All lifts have them, aye?”

For a terrifying moment I thought that I might fall sideways out of my chair. In truth, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream, or burst out into a hysterical fit of laughter. After a few seconds, I composed myself, and dared a glance at Jamie. 

He was inflamed in red, his face contorted in the enormous effort not to laugh, his shoulders trembling just barely. I glared at him, doing my best to hide my own amusement at our ridiculous lack of responsible awareness.

I dipped my head to the side, hiding my face behind the menu, hoping to conceal my expression from our table mates as I hissed into his ear.

“Jamie!”

“Aye.” He sputtered out under his breath, using the refuge of the menu to gasp out a few subdued hoots. “I ken, I ken.”

He wiped his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. “Dinna fash, mo nighean donn. I’ll take care of it.”

With that, he stood, and with an impressive display of casualness, cooly excused himself to the loo. I couldn’t resist a quick glance over my shoulder to watch him- head held high, shoulders braced and straight as he stalked off, determined to complete the mission at hand.

I pressed a hand to my mouth as my brain produced an all too clear vision of what was about to unfold- James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, clad in his immaculate suit and air of quiet dignity, marching boldly into the security office and oh so respectfully requesting- if it wasn’t too much trouble- that the gentlemen be so kind as to erase or otherwise dispose of any security footage wherein he had been recorded committing indecent acts with his fiance against the back wall of the lift?

Fiance. I smiled, caressing the word fondly in my mind, positively giddy with the novelty of it. I was still getting used to the force of nature that was Jamie’s presence in my life. Not once, even during my nearly eight years with Frank, had I ever felt more connected to another human being. Being an orphan of nearly three decades, the idea of being so thoroughly attached to someone both thrilled me and terrified me.

I stole a glance at Lamb who was engaged in an absorbing conversation with Ian. Dearly as I loved the man, I was not ignorant of the effect that such an upbringing had upon me. Lamb loved me fiercely and I never wanted for anything. But we were never really a family- at least not in the traditional sense.

He always made sure that there was a place for me in his life, but he rarely allowed his obligations to me affect the decisions that he made. We bounced around from dig to dig, from University to University- Lamb always running towards the next best piece of history to discover without looking back.

I didn’t resent Lamb in the slightest; on the contrary, he was the most important person in my life- other than Jamie. But for the first time in my life I was overwhelmingly conscious of how that “every man for himself” type of upbringing might make it difficult for me to share my life with someone.

I thought of the encounter with Isobel and felt the sharp stab of guilt piercing my insides. I should have told him. I knew that. Knew that I had only withheld it from him because of some deep seeded instinct to deal with everything by myself.

I gazed down at the ring on my finger. The ring my Father had given my Mother, now symbolizing the depth Jamie’s commitment to me. To us. To our future.

I sat up a little straighter in my chair. Family might have been missing from my past, but it was in my blood. And, I thought fondly as Jamie reappeared, triumphant smile indicating that he’d been successful in his mission-

It’s in my future as well.

*******

I was breathless with laughter and love as Jamie dragged me up the stairs to our flat, pausing on every landing to kiss me with such fervor that I very nearly allowed him to have his way with me in a public place for the second time that evening.

Somewhere in the back of my head I knew I should find some way bring a little solemnity to the general mood between us. I was going to tell him about Isobel and I couldn’t very well put that off until after we’d made passionate love making on whatever surface in our flat we happened to tumble on to first.

However, I needn’t have worried, as the mood was properly solemnized by the sight of John Grey, standing just outside the door to our flat.

“Grey?” Jamie panted, still a little breathless from our final encounter on the last landing before we reached our floor.

“Apologies, Mr. Fraser. I know it’s late, but this is important.” His eyes flicked over to me, in a knowing, anxious way that made my stomach drop. “Shall we talk inside?”

“Aye.” Jamie agreed, detaching his arm from around my waste to unlock the door.

A few minutes later, we were all sipping from small crystal glasses of whisky, as we stood around the kitchen island. John Grey cleared his throat.

“It is my understanding that congratulations are in order.” He began, a little awkwardly.

Jamie arched a brow at him. “Aye. I thank ye.” He sipped his whisky. “Though you’ll forgive me if I doubt verra seriously that the purpose of this visit is solely for the extension of such pleasantries.”

The corner of John’s mouth quirked up in the slightest hint of a wry smile. “No. I’m afraid not.” He cleared his throat. “As you’re aware, Mr. Fraser…”

He took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the glass he was holding in his cupped hands. “I’ve had one of our associates keep close surveillance of the hospital where Dr. Beauchamp is employed.”

I felt my eyes pop out of my head as my mouth dropped open. “You what?” I spat out incredulously at John before swinging around on Jamie, who at that precise moment looked like he’d been hit on the back of the head with a mallet. 

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” I hissed out, through gritted teeth.

“Well, I-I…” Jamie sputtered out, “I didn’t really think it was that big of a-”

“Not that big of a deal?” I all but roared. “You had someone spying on me at work and you didn’t bother to mention it!”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed in on me, focused now, as his jaw rent rigid. “Not spying Claire. ‘Twas merely a precaution.”

“A precaution?” I repeated back, trying to make sense of this line of reasoning.

“Dr. Beauchamp if I may.” John interjected. “With Geneva back in the country, I assure you that this measure was in no way frivolous.”

I felt my heart pounding in my ears as sense flooded back to me. I blushed furiously, thoroughly embarrassed by my initial reaction. John pressed on. “Whatever her delusions concerning Mr. Fraser entail, we have to assume that your association with him could potentially make you a target.”

“I see.” I said slowly.

“Did something happen at the hospital?” Jamie asked, first looking at John, and then- with a dawning realization- turning towards me.

“Well-I-I was going to-” I began.

“We got a hit on facial recognition.” John explained. “In the lobby of the hospital.”

Jamie’s mouth dropped open as all the color drained from his face. “Geneva?”

“We thought so at first, but no.” John clarified, and I felt rather than saw Jamie’s shoulders sag with relief. “It was her sister. Isobel?”

“Isobel?” Jamie jerked in surprise. “Why on earth would she…”

Jamie’s words stopped dead as he turned to me, obviously seeing everything he needed to know written clearly across my face. “Claire?”

I swallowed, hard, wringing my hands. “I was going to tell you- I just- I really was-the second we got home, I was going to-”

“Shh, a nighean, dinna fash aye?” Jamie cooed, reaching out to put his hands on my shoulders in reassurance. “Just tell us what’s happened.”

I nodded and reached up to cover one of his hands with my own. And then, in a shaky voice, proceeded to tell them about my brief encounter with Isobel Dunsany. When I was done, I looked from Jamie to John as the silence stretched on, nearly suffocating me.

Jamie’s arms were folded tight across his middle, and I reached out to grab his elbow in an attempt to extricate him from such a defensive stance.

“Jamie-I-I’m so sorry-please-I-” I shook my head in an attempt to control my emotions- not wanting to go totally to pieces with John Grey still in our kitchen. “I just- It was so sudden and I couldn’t- I didn’t-”

Jamie squeezed my hand gently before letting go, giving me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Be still, Claire.” He said, in a low, dead voice that made my stomach flip. “It’s fine.”

I swallowed back tears. It most certainly was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. And all pretense would be dropped the second John Grey left. I only half listened as the two men discussed the implications of my encounter.

To my extreme relief, John seemed to be a sufficient counter to Jamie’s more barbaric extincts and it seemed that rationality and thoughtful consideration would win the day. It was decided that John would begin carefully, and cautiously- very cautiously- focusing his attention on the Dunsany family- their estate, properties they owned, close friends that might have agreed to harbor Geneva.

The matter settled, John took one final swig of whisky before shooting me a grim look of encouragement and walking out the door. After Jamie had closed it behind him and locked it, he stood there for a long time, hand hovering over the lock, facing away from me.

Unable to take the silence any longer, I caved and made the first move. “Thank you.” I croaked out, relieved that this had thrown him off sufficiently as to cause him to finally turn around and look at me. “For not dressing me down in front of John Grey, I mean. I suppose I would have deserved that.”

“Aye.” He huffed back, leaning back against the door with folded arms. “I suppose ye would have. But I guess that’s the difference between you and me, aye?” He glared, cold. “I respect ye.”

“Jamie!” I exclaimed. Appalled. “This has nothing - nothing - to do with respect!”

“Oh no?” He seethed, pushing off the door, stalking towards me until we were only feet apart. “I canna make sense of it Claire. How could you keep this from me? After what that woman’s done to me? To my family?”

I was speechless. I had been prepared for the anger- for the rage. But the pain, the devastation, the utter betrayal in his eyes nearly cleaved my heart in two.

“What were ye afraid that such grim news would put a damper on yer birthday celebrations?” He spat out with a contempt that made my skin crawl.

I jerked back, as though struck. “You absolute bastard!” I roared. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

“How dare I?” He roared back. “How dare you!”

“If you’d just listen-”

“I dinna want to listen!” He growled harshly. “Christ Claire, I can barely look at ye right now!”

I gasped, audibly, as though the very wind had been knocked out of me. We stood there for a long time, staring each other down, chests heaving, our anger choking out any further words that could be spoken between us. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Where you going?” I finally asked when Jamie turned to slip on his coat, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter.

“I need some air.” He barked back coldly before he marched out without another word, slamming the door behind him.

I clapped a hand over my mouth as the tears rushed to the surface almost immediately. Jamie and I had argued before, but he had never, not once, walked out on me like that. 

In an instant, I was transported back to my time with Frank. Frank stormed out often during arguments, often disappearing for days at a time, refusing to answer my calls, leaving me to worry and stress until he was satisfied that I’d been punished sufficiently.

I never thought that Jamie would be the kind of man to do something like that. It occured to me with a sick twist in my gut that perhaps it was me that inspired such behavior in men.

I felt so damnably foolish, knowing that Jamie had been right. He’d been wrong about my motivations, of course, but he’d been right to be angry with me for not telling him about Isobel. I began to shake as the true reality of what I had done washed over me. No matter my motivations, I messed up. Massively.

In that moment, I felt so pitifully despondent that I wanted nothing more than to press my face into the safe warmth of Jamie’s chest. Instead, I drifted zombie like over to the couch, collapsing on my side and into a ball, eyes on the clock by the television just as it struck midnight. I wrapped my arms tight around myself, finding them a poor substitute for Jamie’s.

****

Jamie’s POV

I must have walked for ten minutes before I managed to see straight again. It’s always an odd feeling, coming down from a rush of anger like that. I was usually so in control of my emotions- so much so that whenever I felt that control slipping- I didn’t react well to it at all.

As my heartbeat began to slow, I felt the words I’d said to her, the way I’d just walked out on her- crawl through my blood like poison. I actually stopped in my tracks when I realized that I’d just left my brand new fiance at home alone crying- on her birthday, for Christ’s sake- all because of my own fear.

And that’s what it was. Fear.

In the end, I did understand why she hadn’t told me right away. It bothered me, annoyed me, even, but I understood. But that wasn’t why I had reacted the way I did. It was the realization of just how easily that it could have been Geneva, sneaking into the hospital, getting Claire alone in that exam room. It was the anger I felt- the blinding, all consuming rage for the woman who’d taken my life away once, and could oh so easily do it again. Only this time, I knew, I wouldn’t survive it.

I treaded slowly back to the flat, my head hung in shame. I knew we had to talk. I had to speak my peace and she needed to speak hers. And yet I wanted- needed- to take her to bed. To bury myself deep down inside her. The only place in the world that I felt safe- that I found peace. The fear and rage never could seem to find me there.

I slipped through the darkness in our flat on soft feet, not wishing to wake her as I crept towards the bedroom. I slowly pushed the door open and waited for my eyes to adjust to the light. Unable to find the familiar shapes of her curving under the duvet, I reached out to the wall, patting until I found the light switch, my heart nearly stopping in my chest when the room flooded with light and I saw our bed empty.

I stumbled out of the room, frantically grappling in my pocket for my mobile, trying to think who she would have gone to, who she would have called. I was halfway out the door- trying to decide if I should call Geillis or Lamb first, when I caught sight of her, curled up on the couch.

I heaved out a huge sigh of relief as I shrugged my coat off and threw it on the kitchen island. My heart slowed as I made my way over to her, only to quicken again as I got close enough to see the subtle shake of her shoulders.

She was crying in her sleep.

“Oh, Christ, Claire.” I choked out as I fell to my knees in front of her. “Please forgive me.”

I pressed a kiss to her temple and murmured sweetly in her ear as I slid my arms under her trembling body.

“Jamie.” She gasped, coming awake suddenly as more tears slipped from her swollen eyes. The sheer, tearing relief in her voice cut into me like a knife.

“Ssh.” I whispered, pulling her closer, trying to lift her off the couch, planning to carry her to bed. “Just go back to sleep. I’m here.”

My words seemed to cause something deep and broken within her to snap and she began to sob uncontrollably, her whole body shaking hard with the force of it.

“Claire?” I jerked back, alarmed, before leaning forward to ease her back onto the couch. “Christ! Are ye-?”

“You came back?” She sobbed helplessly, looking so completely crestfallen that it was all I could do not to fall apart myself.

I cupped her face in my hands, brushing her hair out of her face as I looked into her eyes, incredulous. “Of course Sassenach. Did ye really think I wouldn’t?”

“Wouldn’t-blame-you-if-you-didn’t-” She hiccuped between sobs. “Jamie-I’m-I’m”

“Oh, mo chridhe.” I whispered gently as I sat down beside her and pulled her into my lap. I tucked her head under my chin and rubbed her back, my own heart breaking in two at the knowledge that I had done this to her.

“Jamie.” She croaked out, finally. “I’m so, so-”

“I know, Sassenach.” I said, kissing her on the top of the head. “I’m sorry too.”

She extricated herself out from under my chin, shaking her head. “Jamie, you don’t have anything to-”

“Aye, I do.” I nodded, hand coming up to her my cheek. “I shouldna have spoken to ye so. Nor should I have stormed out the way I did.”

I leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Christ I hate that I’ve upset you like this. I cannae believe I left you here. I had no-”

“But, Jamie, you were right, I shouldn’t have kept that from you.” She insisted, eyes on her hands where they fisted into the front of my shirt. “If you’ll just let me explain why-”

“I ken why ye kept it from me. And I ken it wasna because of something as foolish as yer wee birthday dinner. I’m ashamed to have insinuated such a thing.”

“But it was still so horrible of me Jamie. No matter the reason, I-I…” She took a deep, shuddering, breath, as though trying to keep herself from descending into another storm of tears. “I feel so awful.”

“Look at me Claire.” I commanded, putting a finger under her chin. “We both ken why ye didna tell me right away. Yer given to consider things on yer own before sharing them. Ye feel as though you have to work through it on yer own terms before ye can let someone else in.”

She nodded, mute.

“Ye were alone for so long, Sassenach.” I went on, eyes on her soft and tender. “But yer not anymore. I need ye to trust me-”

“I do trust you Jamie.” She insisted fiercely, arms grasping at my neck. “More than anyone.”

“I ken that.” I whispered, leaning forward to brush her nose with mine. “But yer instinct is to shut me out until ye ken for sure what ye want to do about something, aye?”

She clamped her mouth shut, unable to come up with an argument to refute this.

“And that’s okay for some things.” I offered. “But for the big stuff, Claire, I need ye to let me in from the start. Let me work through it with you.”

She nodded, and took a big huge shuddering breath before all but collapsing into the curve of my shoulder.

“Thank you for coming back.” She whispered. 

I grasped me gently by the neck, pulling her back to look at me. “Always, Claire. I will always come back to you.”

Our lips met then and I all but dissolved into her, redemption, understanding and forgiveness washing over me like a healing rain. When we finally broke apart, she put her hands on my chest and looked up into my face.

“I am sorry, Jamie. Truly.” She took a breath, cupping my face in her hands. “Forgive me?”

“Forgiven.” I nodded emphatically. “And I’ll ask yer pardon as well. I was sore- I said more than I meant. Do you forgive me too?”

She smiled, softly, scraping her nails along the scruff at my jaw. “Forgiven.”

I let out a great contented sigh as I tightened one arm around her, snaking the other back around my neck to find her hand. I brought her palm to my lips and kissed the cool silver of her ring.

“Let’s go to bed, aye?”

She nodded with an unabashed enthusiasm that made me chuckle. “Aye.”


	12. Lallybroch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you not on Tumblr: I am coming out of a very serious period of writers block. I think I'm through the worst of it, and hopefully I'll have another chapter up soon! 💕

November 15th, 2019

Barely three weeks after the engagement, we boarded a train bound for the highlands. The journey from London passed in a blur and before I knew it, we were pulling into the driveway at Lallybroch- Jamie and I riding in the back of Ian and Jenny’s SUV. By dinnertime, we were gathered around the huge table in the kitchen, laughing and telling stories-- and of course, talking about the wedding.

“Have ye set a date yet then?” Ellen asked cheerfully, just as the meal was coming to an end.

With an exasperated sigh and a warning arch of his brow, Jamie balled up his napkin and tossed it onto his plate.

“Och, Mam…”

“Dinna ‘Och Mam’ me James Fraser!” She shot back without missing a beat. “It’s been ages since ye proposed!”

“It’s been three weeks!”

She cocked her head to one side. “Ye need more than three weeks to set a date?”

Jamie crossed his arms and set his jaw in a show of indignation I was all too familiar with and I took that as my cue to intervene.

“Mam, would ye-”

“We were thinking June.” I piped in, with an almost sickeningly melodic tone of voice.

“June?” Ellen’s head snapped towards me, her attention successfully drawn away. 

“Yes- weren’t we Jaime?” I prodded, kicking him gently in the shin.

He caught my eye and after a long moment, blew out a huge breath, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as though trying to snap himself out of something.

“Aye... “ He nodded, sliding his hand on to my thigh under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We thought June would be nice.”

I took a sip of wine, eyeing Jamie discreetly. He was always a little different when we came to Lallybroch. A touch more subdued. It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out why. William’s death was still so fresh-- the wound of his loss still open and bleeding. Keeping that in mind, I tried not to read too much into his sudden reluctance to talk about our wedding.

Ellen for the most part seemed unperturbed by Jamie’s bizarre mood, on the contrary--she was practically floating.

“Oh how wonderful!” She crooned, clasping her hands together. “There’s nothing lovelier than a summer wedding in the highlands!”

I couldn’t stop the answering smile from spreading across my face. Ever since our first visit here, I’d been drawn to Ellen’s welcoming warmth and exuberance. She reminded me so much of Jamie in that way. How it was impossible not to listen to her--not to want to be near her. And that uncanny ability she had to make anyone feel like the most important person in the room.

“I canna wait to start planning!” She trilled, practically bouncing in her seat. “Have ye thought about bridesmaids?”

I swallowed down the rest of my wine, brows drawn together in thought. “Oh, I think I’ll only have a few. Geillis has already appointed herself maid of honor and I was planning to ask a friend from medical school… and Jenny, of course… “ I shot her a small, shy smile before adding-- “if you’d be willing.”

I was rewarded with a trademark Fraser smile. “I wouldna have it any other way!”

Jamie’s arm came up to rest on the back of my chair, and I looked up to find him smiling down at me with such an overwhelming rush of pride and adoration that it was all I could do not to swoon.

*******

The two of us being outright knackered from the journey, we headed up to bed shortly after dinner was cleared away. I showered first, relishing in the feeling of the hot water on my winter-chilled skin. I smiled to myself, hearing Jamie’s horrendously off-key singing as he set about the business of unpacking.

Through the rush of water in my ears, combined with the low hum of the TV playing in the bedroom, I could just barely make out the lyrics--

((Well the South side of Chicago  
Is the baddest part of town  
And if ye go down there  
Ye better just beware  
Of a man named Leroy Brown))

I snorted as I turned the creaky faucet, still not used to Jamie’s strange affinity with American rock music. Toweling off quickly, I slipped into my favorite long sleeve t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. My heart swelled a ridiculous amount when I saw that Jamie had already unpacked the rest of my toiletries, lining them up neatly on the counter.

A few minutes later I was brushing my teeth, when Jamie suddenly stopped singing.

“Sassenach-- have ye seen my shampoo?” He asked, poking his head in the door.  
I quirked a brow at him as I leaned forward spitting toothpaste into the sink. “You ran out yesterday. Remember?”

“Och, aye.” He grumbled, pressing the heel of this hand to his forehead. “I meant to have a new bottle delivered here but it clean when out of my head.”

I bit my lip, swallowing a well-rehearsed comment on my fiance’s preference for ridiculously expensive hair care products. “Just use mine for the time being then.”

He frowned dubiously, leaning into the shower to grab the purple bottle of jasmine scented shampoo. Popping open the cap with his thumb, he leaned in sniffing suspiciously before flipping the bottle over to peer down at the ingredients.

“Hey, Jamie?”

“Hey, Sassenach?” He mumbled back automatically, not looking up from the bottle.

Reaching out, I put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing a little until he turned to face me. He looked at me then and his eyes seemed clear and free of trouble.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, once he saw the somber expression on my face.

“No--not really.” I sighed, letting my hand fall away from him. “I just…. At dinner, you seemed a little irritated. With your Mother.”

Understanding lit his eyes as he blew out a big breath, turning back towards the shower to replace the shampoo.

“Aye.” He said quietly as he drew me close, tucking my head under his chin while I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Aye. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s alright.” I titled my head back to look up at him. “I just wondered why is all.”

His mouth quirked a little to one side, in a small, sad, half smile. “I wasna irritated with her so much. I was just feelin’ a wee bit sad, I think. Just for a moment. And when Mam kept pressin’ for a date I just....”

I peered up at him under a knitted brow. “Sad?”

“Aye.” He nodded. “Sitting around the table, talking with them about our plans and such.... It was the first time that I realized…” He trailed off, his fingers drawing circles into the small of my back.

“Realized what?”

He swallowed thickly, leaning down to press his forehead against mine. “That my brother isna going to be at my wedding.”

The unguarded grief in his voice struck me in the center of my chest. My hands curled in briefly where they rested on his chest, before sliding up to cup his face. I ran my thumbs lightly over the high arches of his cheekbones, searching for words to say.

“Jamie, I…”

“I ken.” He breathed. “Ye dinna need to say anything. Just be here with me, for a moment. Aye?”

I nodded emphatically, throwing my arms around him and tucking my face into the curve of his neck.

“I love you.” I told him, without really thinking about it.

I could feel his answering smile as he pressed his lips to my hair. “And I, you.”

*****

Hours later, I lay next to Jamie in the dark, listening to him snore. Normally, I would have woken him without a moment’s hesitation. But he’d had a rough few weeks at the office and I knew he needed the sleep. Swinging my legs out of bed as quietly as possible, I tiptoed across the creaking floorboards until I felt the cool metal of the door handle. I spared one last fond glance at his slumbering pile of shadows before slipping out into the hall.

Downstairs, I stole through the house like a thief, as yet so new to this family and this place that I still felt like something of an intruder. Thinking that a glass or two of whisky might settle my mind, I made my way to the study. I had just reached the drink cart in the corner by the large stone fireplace when I realized I wasn’t alone.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

I snapped around, hand clutched to my chest to find Ellen Fraser curled up in an armchair. She’d never looked more like Jamie than she did then, eyes and hair shining in the crackling light of the fire. She wore a thick flannel robe, a pair of cat-eye black framed reading glasses perched low on her long, straight nose. 

“I’m sorry!” I gasped, thoroughly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Och, yer not botherin’ anything.”

She smiled warmly, slipping the glasses off, letting them hang against her chest from the chain she wore around her neck.

“Adso and I were just trying to work through a crossword puzzle.” She held the paper up before setting it aside.

She adjusted a bit in her seat, causing the sleek gray cat to tumble to the floor with sharp, displeased, whine.

“Mind pouring me one, while yer at it?” She asked, nodded to the drink cart behind me.

“Oh--I--” I stuttered, blushing furiously. “You don’t mind?”

She barked a laugh. “Nae, I was about three or four pages from pouring one myself. Now, I dinna have to get up.”

I obediently poured us each a few fingers of whisky, before coming to sit in the armchair across from her, leaning over the coffee table between us to hand her a crystal tumbler.

Over the next hour or so, Ellen regaled me with delightfully endearing stories from Jamie’s youth--stories I was positive he’d never allow to be told in his presence. I was still wiping laughter induced tears from my eyes when Ellen returned from the drink cart with our third round of whisky. 

“This was nice.” She paused to take a healthy sip. “I’ve been hoping we might find a chance to talk. Just the two of us.”

“Oh?” I asked, before taking a sip of my own.

“Aye. Jamie hardly ever lets ye out of his sight when he brings ye around.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that. She was, of course, absolutely right. While Jamie was always a very present, considerate partner, he seemed to go into overdrive whenever we visited Lallybroch.

“He’s very attentive.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think he worries that we’ll overwhelm ye. Not that I blame him.” She shrugged, bringing the glass to her lips. “We can be a tad overwhelming.”

“I don’t think so at all.” I insisted, shaking my head. “It’s rather nice, actually.”

She cocked her head to one side. “You think so?”

“I do.” I paused, teeth in my bottom lip, hesitant. “I told you before, how I was raised by Uncle?”

“Aye.”

“Well, everything was always so… quiet.” I finished lamely. “Whether it was a university library, or a dig site, or a grungy hotel room…” I trailed off, cursing my wretched in ability to put my thoughts into words.

Ellen nodded encouragingly and I blew out a big breath before going on.

“I think I got used to it. The quiet. And then I met Jamie and he brought me here, and I…” I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and yet I was unable to stop myself. “I guess I never realized how wonderful noise can be.”

She smiled back at me, eyes crinkling, misting over almost imperceptibly, before she cleared her throat. “Aye. Noise can be verra wonderful indeed.”

On impulse, I raised my glass towards her. “To noise?”

“Aye.” She laughed, raising her own glass in turn. “To noise.”

We each leaned forward clinking our glasses together, before settling back in our chairs. I noticed that Ellen’s expression had changed--as though she’d just now remembered something.

“I hope I didna upset ye earlier.” She told me, running a hand through her hair in such a Jamie-like fashion, I felt as though I were seeing double. “With the wedding talk.”

“Oh.” I said dumbly. “Oh, not at all.”

She arched a brow at me, regarding me with a mix of caution and deep sympathy. Coming to some sort of decision, she downed the rest of her glass in a single swig.

“Ye ken…” She crossed her legs, clasping her hands over her knee. “Jenny got married just a few years ago. She tried to keep it small, of course, but in this family that’s just never how it goes.” She chuckled fondly.

“It was all very hectic, of course. The planning and the chaos. But, we…. We had a good time of it. The two of us. And sitting here now, I just canna help but think... “ She trailed off, playing with the rings on her finger. “No lass should ever have to plan a wedding without a mother to see her safely through it.”  
While I was slowly growing accustomed to the straight-forward nature of highlanders, Ellen’s words took the breath from my lungs in a single blow. I could do nothing more than blink back at her, waiting for her to speak again.

“I ken I am most certainly overstepping, and if Jamie hears he’ll likely skin me alive, but….” She leaned forward, taking my hands in both of hers. “It’s no’ my intention to fill anyone’s place in yer heart Claire. But I want ye to know that ye do have a Mother to see ye through this, and through anything else life might throw yer way.”

I looked down at our clasped hands, my throat so thick with emotion I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to speak properly again.

“Ellen, I--”

But she was already standing, eyes trained on the safe behind the desk. “Wait just a moment, aye?”

Before I could say another word, she was rising from her chair, leaving me stunned and speechless. She returned a few moments later, a long velvet wrapped case in her hand.

“I had a mind to wait until closer to the wedding, but…” She explained, placing the case in my lap. “Now seemed as good a time as any.”

I arched a brow at her in question as she settled back into the chair across from me. Unable to resist my curiosity, I pried the box open, gasping audibly when I saw what lay within. Pearls, gleaming white in the fire light, nestled in a bed of black satin.

“Oh.” I breathed, enraptured, hand coming up of its volition to trace over the delicate beads.

“It’s something of an heirloom.” Ellen explained proudly. “It’s been in my family for centuries. Passed down from mothers to daughters. I would’ve given them to Jenny, but she’s always hated pearls. And they wouldna suit her anyway.”

She winked at me, and I opened my mouth to say something back, but my brain seemed incapable of forming words.

“I..are you sure?” I finally asked, stunned into near speechlessness.

“Oh aye.” She nodded. Her smile was wide, beaming and somehow at the same time, heartbreakingly sad. She stood again, this time to retrieve the bottle of whisky from the cart before returning.

“Now ye’ve got yer something old!”

******

My heart was still in my throat by the time I crawled back into bed next to Jamie. I found myself suppressing the ridiculous urge to wake him, to show him the pearls, to kiss him breathless, to cry into his chest because I was just so overwhelmingly happy and content that I felt like I might fly apart into a million pieces.

I glanced out the window, trying and failing to discern the time. Not having the slightest clue where my own phone was in chaos that was our bedroom, I leaned over Jamie to pluck his up from its place on the nightstand. I was immediately greeted with an alert.

Voicemail dated 14/1/2018 at 23:45 has been stored in archives for 22 months. Would you like to delete the voicemail, or continue storing it?

Without thinking, I thumbed in his passcode. Once unlocked, the voicemail archive window displayed automatically. Before I could stop it, the recorded message began to play:

((Hey Jamie, it’s Will. Listen, man-- I ken it’s been a few days, but I want to apologize. I didna mean what I said, and I ken ye didn’t either. I’ve got some things… some things I need to explain. Just give me the chance, aye?))

There was a long pause and for a moment I thought maybe that was it, until--

((I cannae stop thinkin’ about the other night. I love ye. Call me when ye wake up.))


End file.
